


Begin Again

by taylocrow



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Death, F/M, Family, Friendship/Love, Grief/Mourning, Loss, Mentioned suicide, Modern AU, No Incest, No Relation - Freeform, Slow Burn, anorexia mentioned
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-23
Updated: 2017-04-12
Packaged: 2018-09-01 18:11:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 51,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8633176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taylocrow/pseuds/taylocrow
Summary: Suffering through a devastating loss, Sansa Stark finally comes around to befriending the family favorite: Jon Snow. Through her new found and unlikely friendship, Sansa begins to start over again.





	1. Chinese Food

**Author's Note:**

> Loss of a close loved one, so if that's not your jam you might want to pass on this one.

 

 

# Chapter One: Chinese Food

* * *

 

“San, please, it's the last week of my winter break and the only weekend that everyone is in town and accounted for.” Arya pouted as she checked herself out in Sansa’s full mirror. Her body was slender and gorgeous in a fitted green dress. Arya pinned up her hair and narrowed her eyes at her sister in the mirror, “Come on, please! I really want you to come with us.”

 

Sansa looked away from her window and finally laid eyes on her little sister, her heart swelled at the sight of her. College had really done her a favor. Sansa chewed on her bottom lip as she debated her night. It was impossible to think about heading out the front door.

 

Her mother would practically throw a parade if she finally showed her face downstairs.

 

“Sansa.” Arya crossed the room to sit beside her on her bed, “Harry would hate this.”

 

The oxygen left Sansa’s lungs just at the sound of his name. She clenched her jaw and thought of everything her therapist said, remember where you are, center yourself, breathe.

 

Harry Hardyng married Sansa Stark in the wedding of the century two years ago. They had been friends in high school before they started to date in college. It was so easy, so simple, and Sansa thought she had it absolutely made. They dated for a smooth 4 years before he proposed in front of all their family and friends at her birthday party.

 

The wedding was magnificent. White lillies and orchids danced on aisles of the massive church their ceremony was held in. Sansa’s dress was a fine chiffon princess gown flown in from France. Harry wore his father’s lucky dress shoes and even though they were scuffed and smelly; Sansa didn't mind. Because it was going to be the beginning of the rest of her life.

 

She was raised to believe that once you graduate, you marry, and start a family. Sansa knew she would never have to worry about money and marrying into the Hardyng family did not hurt anything.

 

Sansa got a job anyhow, after the perfect honeymoon in Hawaii, moving into their first home, and decorating the place was all finished. She was restless and bored and without a baby on the way, she really saw no point in sitting around all day just waiting on Harry to get home from his law firm.

 

It was 1:00 in the afternoon when she got the call. It was her lunch break and she was out with her friend Margaery, who worked with her at the interior design shop. Sansa hadn't picked up the first time at the sight of her Mother in Law’s name flashing across the screen. It was a warm May afternoon, she was enjoying lunch with a friend, and it was far too early to begin stressing over the upcoming Labor Day party.

 

But when her phone continued buzzing, she grabbed it up in a haste, answering very unlike herself, “Hello? Yes, what is it?” She snapped.

 

“He's gone.”

 

Sansa knew.

 

Her blood turned to ice and mind went numb as she simply hung up the phone. There was nothing else to say, nothing to explain, nothing else to know. Harry was gone.

 

He had gone out for an early lunch around 11:00 and left Sansa a voicemail to catch up with him. She decidedly ignored it, irritated that he always blew off her job as if it was all for show.

 

Harry drove to that fancy brunch placed he loved so much by himself that day, and got pummeled by an overturned eighteen wheeler. It rolled and squashed Harry inside his car. He was dead on the scene.

 

DOA. DOA. DOA.

 

That was all Sansa heard that day.

 

Her husband was dead on arrival. Nothing to be done. Nothing to be said. Harry was gone. Harry Hardyng was dead on arrival.

 

Arya’s shoulders slouched and she leaned her head to rest on Sansa’s, “I wish I could make it better for you.”

 

Sansa put her hand on her little sister’s head and gave a light squeeze in appreciation. They had never gotten along growing up, but within the past two years had become incredibly close. Arya was Sansa’s shadow the past 3 years. She was eternally grateful that no matter what a little pest she was growing up, Arya had more than made up for all her wrong doings as a child.

 

“Hey guys,” Robb tapped his knuckles on the door as he pushed his way inside Sansa’s childhood room. She had moved back in once they sold the house about 5 months ago.

 

“Are you coming with us?” Robb leaned against the open doorway. He wore a blue sweater with slacks and Sansa’s heart hurt more at how old both her siblings looked. How did the world keep turning? Why does everyone else get to age as Harry rots in the ground?

 

Remind yourself where you are, center yourself, breathe. Sansa inhaled shakily as she shook off her angry thoughts, “No.” She said on the exhale.

 

“Well. We’ll miss you.” Robb straightened up uncomfortably at the sight of his sister slumped on her bed. Sansa wore an old dance t-shirt and yoga pants, her hair tied up with glasses on.

 

“Are you sure?” Bran popped up behind Robb, he just turned 21 and was off the charts excited the past break to be able to keep up with his siblings.

 

Sansa blinked.

 

“Alright, alright. Let's leave her be.” Arya rose slowly and straightened her dress, “Where are we headed to?”

 

Robb and Bran began to debate on where was best and why and Sansa stared blankly at their mindless banter. Envious at how easy it was for them to get out of bed, to get dressed, to feel excited for something.

 

“See you later San. Call if you need me.” Arya raised her hand up in a pitiful wave. Robb and Bran gave small uncomfortable smiles before ducking out with Arya.

 

Sansa laid back on her bed and tried to remember what it was like to leave the house without having to be bribed.

 

**xxxxxx**

 

Sansa woke from a dreamless sleep, her throat dry and eyes bleary. She couldn't remember falling asleep or what made her watch the Food Network, but she scoffed at herself and turned the TV off.

 

Water.

 

That was how she thought now. One baby step at a time. _I need this, do this, do that, don't think of that, don't say that_.

 

Everyone’s sympathy was turning into worry and hurt 8 months after Harry’s death. She was beginning to freak everyone out. The bubbly, light hearted, girly Sansa replaced by a dreary, silent, and empty ghost.

 

But this glum ghost needed water.

 

Sansa forced herself up and down the stairs, noting the time of 3:30 AM. Her hair had fallen from her bun, freshly showered hours earlier. That was a new accomplishment: regular hygiene.

 

Sansa stepped into the kitchen and noticed a glow from the fridge. It was opened and had a tall figure standing before it. Sansa grimaced, “Dad?” She squeaked out. The last thing she was in the mood for was a pep talk from her father at 3:30 AM. God love him, but sometimes his positivity could absolutely drain her some days.

 

“No.” A familiar voice sounded. Sansa squinted her eyes and caught Jon Snow red handed shoveling spoonfuls of leftover Chinese fried rice into his mouth. His eyes softened at the sight of his best friends poor, poor little sister. Sansa jutted her chin out, “What are you doing?” She hissed.

 

Sansa hadn't even eaten any of the Chinese food but for whatever reason, felt very protective of it at this very moment.

 

“I, uh, we went out. I….woke up and I'm hungry.” Jon stammered, awkwardly shoving the Chinese leftovers back into the fridge. He drunkenly stumbled a bit and chucked his spoon loudly into the sink across the room, a echoing clang made Sansa cringe and Jon laugh. Darkness swallowed up the room as soon as he shut the fridge.

 

“What are you doing?” Jon's quiet voice slurred from beside the fridge. Muscle memory helped Sansa guide herself to the island in the center of the room and she leaned against it while letting out a heavy sigh, “I needed some water.”

 

“Oh.” Jon hiccuped.

 

“Are you hiccuping?” Sansa raised an eyebrow Jon couldn't see.

 

“I drank way, way too much. Your brother is a bad influence.” Jon hiccuped and laughed then hiccuped and laughed some more. He sounded like a dying animal.

 

“Bran or Robb?” Sansa tilted her head in the dark.

 

“Both.” Jon walked up to her, so close it made Sansa cower.

 

“Hey, Sansa,” She could feel his breath, hear the way he licked his lips, “I wish you had come.”

 

Sansa stood completely still.

 

“I'm real sorry about...” Jon hiccuped and backed away, turning over by the wall to flip the switch on.

 

The overhead lights filled the room and Sansa took in the sight of Jon. Shirtless in boxers with his hair pulled into a bun at the back of his neck. His eyes were red and face was puffy with sleep. He was still absolutely drunk.

 

Jon and her have always had little to do with each other, never really paying any attention to one another. As kids, they played together when all the kids did, but as soon as he and Robb were old enough; they wanted no part in hanging out with Sansa. And vice versa. Robb went to Kings Landing U and Jon went to Wall College but remained best friends. Sansa followed in her brother’s footsteps and spent the entirety of her college years so far up Harry’s ass she couldn't really think of any memory of school without him in it.

 

Maybe that's just what happens when someone's dead.

 

Jon stared at her blankly, hiccuping and shirtless with his hair in his little bun. The fridge alarm went off since drunk Jon hadn't shut it properly. He rushed to adjust it and the chocolate syrup fell from its shelf and shattered all over the floor. Painting the bottom of the fridge and cabinets. “SHIT!” Jon slurred an exclamation.

 

Sansa threw her head back and laughed. She laughed because her brother was 21 and drank a 28 year old under the table. She laughed because Jon’s hair was long enough to wear up. She laughed because she couldn't even help herself. And she laughed because her husband was dead and for whatever reason, she suddenly wanted Chinese food.

 

When she finally got a hold of herself, tears welled in her eyes, she looked back to shirtless and still Jon and smiled. His eyes were wide and scared, unsure of how to approach her. Sansa was a wild animal to them all and she was suddenly so exhausted with playing into their expectations. At least for right now.

 

Sansa just wanted Chinese food and water.

 

“Get the food out.” Sansa watched Jon immediately fumble to the fridge and pull out all the leftovers, piling them all on the island before her. Jon grabbed plates and forks while Sansa filled up glasses of water.

 

Sansa plopped down in the chair and silently motioned to Jon which foods she wanted on her plate. After he fixed both of their plates, he turned to leave and looked over his shoulder.

 

“Sit.” Sansa scooped up cold beef and broccoli into her mouth.

 

Jon cautiously lowered himself beside her. Probably unsure of whether or not to get her brother or her mom. Last month Sansa had been prone to random breakdowns and although Robb didn't live at home, he was well aware. So she could only assume Jon knew that she was practically a ticking time bomb of emotional turmoil.

 

Jon stuffed an egg roll into his mouth and watched her out of the corner of his eye.

 

Sansa ate and ate and got some seconds. She munched on the sweet and sour chicken and finished off a carton of the fried rice. Jon sat beside her in amazement. He probably knew she hadn't been much of an eater lately too.

 

Jon Snow probably knew a lot but he didn't say a word when she reached for her third helping.

 

When she was full, she stood and silently cleaned up her area.

 

Sansa turned to look at a stunned Jon. He had barely picked at his plate.

 

“Thank you.” Sansa left the kitchen and heard a soft “You're welcome.” murmured from behind her.

 

That night Sansa dreamed of riding horses and in the snow.


	2. Back Porch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a doozy.  
> Also all the kids are old by the way.  
> Robb: 30  
> Jon: 29  
> Sansa: 26  
> Arya: 23  
> Bran: 21  
> Rickon: 17

 

# Chapter Two: Back Porch

* * *

Christmas came and Christmas went. Just as Sansa got used to the holiday season, it was time for another change, another adjustment. The Christmas decorations were taken down and silver and gold took the place of all the green and red.

 

For the first time since Harry’s funeral Sansa donned black. She tried to stomach putting on the same chiffon black dress but it hung loosely from her thin frame. Tears pricked her eyes when she turned to her little sister, and Arya dashed to her mother’s closet to fish out an old sweater dress and Cat herself.

 

Cat wordlessly slipped off Sansa’s dress and put the other on in it’s place. Arya fastened on her pearls and began furiously braiding and weaving Sansa’s long locks into a fancy half up hair-do. Catelyn grinned at her daughter as she applied her make up, chattering on about the caterers and the music playlist Bran had made up.

 

Robb was bringing over his old high school girlfriend he had just recently linked back up with, Talisa. Jon would be coming over with his friends Sam, Gilly, and his new girlfriend Ygritte. Arya approved of Ygritte and made a comment about her had hair the same color as Sansa’s. Sansa was decidedly annoyed by that.

 

Sansa was sipping on a glass of champagne around 11:30 when she finally spotted Robb alone; Talisa must’ve been off taking shots with friends. Robb roped his strong arm around her shoulder and pulled her in, “You look lovely, Sans.”

 

“Thanks.” Sansa smiled up at him before taking another sip from her glass. Ryan Seacrest carried on with different celebrities on the television as the speakers blared different pop songs. Bran rolled his wheel chair up beside them, “Hey guys! Have you seen Jon anywhere?”

 

“I think he’s on the back porch with a cigarette. Don’t tell Mom.” Robb was flushed pink from drinking and raised a finger to his lips. Sansa smirked at him spilling Jon’s secret and Bran nodded thanks before rolling away. “Talisa is still nice.” Sansa pulled away from Robb’s grip. He flashed his ten watt smile, “She really is. I’m glad to have a second shot with her.”

 

Talisa was a vision of elegance in her silver satin dress, it framed her wiry thin frame with just the right amount of mix of sexy and conservative. Her shiny brunette hair was as long as ever and tonight it poured perfectly down her open back from it's sleek ponytail perched in the middle of her head. Her laughter was practically musical, she effortlessly mingled with all of their friends and family, and Sansa ached to be just like her once more.

 

Sansa sucked in her cheeks, “It’s a good party.”

 

“You’re a good sport.” Robb looked down at his shoes, then back at her, “I’m sorry I haven’t been so great at calling lately.”

 

“S’okay. I’m not that fun to talk to, you’re not missing out.” Sansa attempted to joke but Robb’s frown only deepened.

 

“Don’t say that. You are fun.” Robb’s eyebrows furrowed.

 

Sansa didn’t want to argue, she really didn’t have the energy. Tonight was her first solo social event and by God it was sucking the life from her. The Hardyngs were out of town still. Sansa knew they’d probably never leave High Garden. When they said goodbye to her at the funeral reception, Sansa knew it was a forever kind of thing. They were to grieve separately and independently.

 

Sansa never gave them what they wanted most: a grandchild. And for that she was guilty of letting Harry Hardyng and his family down.

 

Sansa sighed and nodded. “Call more. I’ll call you too. I want to see your new place.”

 

Robb perked up at that, the dark mood in the air instantly evaporated, “You’d love it! I’m thinking of asking Talisa to move in. Her lease is almost up and she’s already always over.”

 

Sansa smiled, proud of her big brother, “I’m sure she’ll say yes. I’ll call ya next week about it?”

 

“Sounds great.” Robb squeezed her shoulder then motioned his head towards the crowds, “I’m headed back into the sea. I’ll catch ya next year?”

 

The joke was so corny and stupid that Sansa didn't even have to force her laugh. She turned to place her empty champagne flute on the table in the foyer and began to push her own way through the swarms of guests. What Sansa needed was air. The sweater dress was snug and warm, coupled with the overcrowded house, roaring heat pumping through the vents, and anxiety she was moments away from sweat dripping down her face. The alcohol she had been sipping throughout the night didn’t help much either.

 

She slid open her family’s back door and stepped out onto the porch, the cold sucking the air from her lungs. Her nose instantly froze and she wrapped her arms around herself for warmth.

 

The moon illuminated her back porch, random couples scattered around. Stars twinkled in the clear skies; Sansa stared at them and watched her breath form clouds in the air. It was surely below freezing outside but the quiet and calm was comforting after all the socializing.

 

Arya had ditched her at the beginning of the night to hang out with her friends and be with her boyfriend Gendry. It had been a long night of old schoolmates, randomly assorted family friends, and perfect strangers from her parents work.

 

 “Sansa?” Jon Snow’s voice was clear and unmistakable. Sansa jerked her head to his direction and smiled at him leaned against the bannister, Ygritte beside him in his dress coat.

 

 “Hello.” Sansa’s greeted them warmly and walked over to them, her heels clicking across the wooden boards. Ygritte was wearing a tight black dress with heels that made her as tall as Jon. Her fiery hair was pulled to the side in a cute fishtail braid. Sansa had met her earlier on but they hadn’t talked much. She mostly talked to Gilly about baby Sam and remarked on Sam’s weight loss. 

 

No one said a thing about her's.

 

“Your pearls are gorgeous. Where are they from?” Ygritte nodded towards her chest. Sansa’s hand flew to them. “I, um…they were a gift.”

 

Jon straightened up and tilted his head. Ygritte opened her mouth to comment but Jon coughed, silencing her. “They’re beautiful.” Jon’s voice was so soft Sansa wanted to cry.

 

Harry had given them to her as a wedding gift. Jon had gotten Sansa some towels from Bed Bath and Beyond, Sansa flashed a smile at the memory. 

 

Ygritte shifted uncomfortably at his tone and looked between them. “Care for a smoke, Sansa? I have a pack.” Ygritte pulled out a red pack of Marlboros from her purse, but Sansa just watched Jon take a puff from his.

 

“Sure.” She found herself saying.

 

Jon stared up at the sky and Sansa watched the little red fire at the end of his cigarette.

 

“Here you are.” Ygritte put the cigarette gently between Sansa’s lips and held a lighter to it. Sansa inhaled deeply. She hadn’t smoked since college but the alcohol in her system made her feel more confident. Ygritte stepped back to stand beside Jon again, smiling at her.

 

“I didn’t peg you for a smoker.” Ygritte teased lightly, pulling a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

 

Sansa blew out the smoke and shook her head, “I’m not.”

 

“10, 9, 8, 7…” The crowds inside began to chant. Sansa whipped her head to the glass door and watched everyone crowd together. “6, 5, 4…”

 

No, no, no.

 

The cigarette dangled between her lips, her mind a swirl of hurt, relief, fear, and fury. Harry was not here. He would not be in the next year. He was not here to be her first kiss or here to be her last. This was the new chapter her father promised her this morning over breakfast.

 

She wasn’t sure she wanted it.

 

In fact, she knew she didn’t.

 

“3, 2, 1! HAPPY NEW YEAR!” Everyone shouted. Sansa’s legs felt wobbly and her fingers were numb.

 

 _Center yourself, breathe, remember where you are_.

 

Sansa chanted her mantra in her head as she twirled on her heels back to Ygritte and Jon.

 

Their arms were just pulling back from one another, Ygritte turned from being in front of Jon, to being beside him again. Ygritte’s head fell lazily to rest on Jon’s shoulder, a sly smile on her lips. Jon’s cigarette ashes fell to the porches wooden boards and Sansa’s eyes slowly gazed from the blackened mess up to Jon’s gray gaze.

 

“Happy New Years, Sansa Hardyng.” His same soft, warm voice brought her world back into focus. His gaze made her feel weightless in all the right ways. There was no empty feeling for a brief moment as she watched a lazy side smile cross his features.

 

“Happy New Years, Jon Snow.” Sansa took one last puff of the cigarette before stomping it out and heading back inside.

 

Maybe a new year wouldn’t be so bad.

**xxxxxx**

 

March 2nd was her 27th birthday, and no one did birthdays like the Starks did birthdays.

 

But this time there was no confetti and surprises.  Just a simple dinner planned and a cake Cat picked up from the store per Sansa’s request.

 

The new year had brought Sansa no relief from her pain, only the false hope that things would turn around. It was exhausting mourning the loss of everything, and it caused her to sink even further into herself. There was no way she weighed anymore than she had in middle school which meant new clothes that Sansa wasn't proud to be able to fit into. Days blurred together in a heap of sorrow and aching pain. So when her birthday had started to rapidly approach, it was difficult pretending to even care she had ever been born, let alone celebrate it. 

 

Sansa didn't want her to make her favorite carrot cake, because when Harry was alive that was what she ate and what she loved and Harry was dead so what did she love? She asked her mother to get something with cherries and Cat quietly obliged.

 

Ned sent out a bat call: every Stark child was to attend, no leaving early or showing up late. Significant others attendance had been up in the air. Cat said no at first but Ned couldn't really figure out why keeping the kid’s relationships from Sansa would make her feel any better.

 

Sansa wanted to say she didn't care who came or didn't come. She wanted to tell them to cancel it all, but that would freak them out even more. So she smiled and acted like cherry cake was her new favorite and that she was excited to sit around a table to shove her food around her plate and suffer through forced conversations.

 

“Hi Robb! Hello Talisa! You both look absolutely marvelous.” Sansa heard her mother exclaim from the foyer. Sansa and Rickon exchanged a grimace at their mom’s hostess tone before looking back to their cell phones.

 

“Hey San!” Robb wrapped an arm around her seated figure and kissed her temple. Talisa waved and sat across the table grinning. “I love your top.”

 

“Thank you. I love your dress, you look beautiful.”

 

Talisa beamed as she slid a pink gift bag across to Sansa. She smiled softly and pushed it towards her father, who put it by the other gifts. Arya and Gendry arrived a few minutes before Jon strolled in with Bran.

 

Sansa sat silently as everyone passed out gifts and greeted one another. She fought the lump in her throat and swallowed at her tears. Harry always got her a bouquet of flowers for her birthdays, but today there were no flowers. And there would never be Harry again.

 

“Cherry cake?” Jon’s nose scrunched, “What happened carrot top?”

 

“Cherries?” Arya’s head tilted.

 

“Since when do you like cherries?” Bran made a look of disgust.

 

“Yes! Cherries! For Pete’s sake! _Cherries_! Now everyone put a napkin in your lap and eat a piece of cherry cake.” Cat ordered. Rickon’s eyes widened but Sansa chose to ignore his sorry look.

 

Rickon cleared his throat after Sansa’s piece was placed before her, “I thought it was presents first.”

 

“Who cares?” Sansa shoveled a huge bite of her cherry cake into her mouth and avoided everyone’s uncertain gaze.

 

“San…are you—“ Arya was cut off by no doubt her father’s glare. Sansa chewed on her cake but didn’t really taste it. Going through the motions to get this all over with.

 

“Did you make this Mom?” Robb tried to lighten the mood.

 

“No. She bought it.” Sansa stared at her brother long enough to watch him shift uncomfortably in his seat.

 

“Well…it’s good.” Robb took a small bite and smiled at Cat.

 

Catelyn nodded, “Yes it is. It was a nice break to not have a whole lot to clean.”

 

“You don’t clean, we have maids.” Sansa finished her last bite of cake and shoved her plate away.

 

“Sansa. You’re being awfully rude.” Ned narrowed his eyes at her.

 

“I’m just saying is all. Why do we have to all prance around the truth all the time? Always beating around the bush? Why can’t anyone just say whatever they want. We are a family.” Sansa shrugged.

 

Jon nodded, “She’s got a point.”

 

Sansa grinned darkly at Jon, he stared back at her with fascination. “I hate my birthday.” 

 

“Old granny?” Bran tried to joke. 

 

Sansa glared at him. “Sansa, knock it off.” Ned snapped. 

 

“Talisa, I bet you can’t wait to get in on the Stark family fun. Do you guys know who the best man will be yet? I was going to—“ Rickon shut his mouth when Jon kicked his shin beneath the table.

 

Sansa pursed her lips and sucked in a breath, “What?”

 

“She just…” Cat trailed off, stunned and clearly grasping for any kind of help. Her eyes went from Sansa, to Robb, to her husband. Ned’s hand soon covered hers and he slowly turned his eyes to Sansa, “Robb and Talisa are getting married.”

 

“You are?” Sansa asked, blinking.

 

Robb and Talisa sat stunned across from her. Arya grabbed Sansa’s thigh in support but Sansa slapped it away. “When did you ask her? How?”

 

“Last week. In the city.” Talisa swallowed before placing a fake smile across her face, “It was quite romantic really—“

 

“Does everyone know?” Sansa looked around the table at all the wide eyes staring at her. Pity, fear, uncertainty. Sansa pushed her chair back and rose from her seat, placing her hands on the table.

 

“Sansa…” Arya looked up at her.

 

“You all…kept this from me?” She looked around pleadingly. She couldn’t be the only one who didn’t know. “Why?”

 

“We didn’t want to upset you.” Robb’s voice sounded exactly like the time that he and Sansa were children and devised a plan to steal cookies from the pantry. After getting busted he had blamed it all on her. Robb’s grown face wore the same expression that it did as a six year old: guilty and panicked.

 

“ _Upset me_? How?” She slammed her hands down on the table, rage racing through her veins, “I have no husband, no life, no fucking reason to wake up every morning. So why would my older brother getting engaged upset me?”

 

Cat stood defiantly, “Sansa Stark. We were trying to do what was best for you, find a time and place to tell you so that it would not affect you this way.”

 

“Stark? Stark?!” Sansa screeched, she felt her ears turning red. She hadn’t ever changed her last name back. Sansa never would. She never could.

 

“Oh, oh my. Sansa, I’m so sorry—“ Cat struggled for words.

 

“And affect me in what way, _mother_?” Sansa spat so harshly she swore she saw her mom wince. Good. “Harry is _fucking dead_ alright? He’s not coming back. I know that. You know that. We all fucking know it.”

 

Her hot gaze scorched all of her family members, “I’m the _loser_ stuck at her parent’s house having her 27th birthday with family that her dad had to all but beg to be here. I get it okay; I’m pathetic. Poor Sansa with the dead husband and no house who just _can’t_ get it together. But I promise you, after all this bullshit, I sure as hell can manage hearing that my brother asked his _stupid_ girlfriend to marry him.”

 

Everyone’s mouths gaped open, staring up at Sansa’s fumes. Her words hung heavy in the air. As much as she wanted to take them back, she almost relished in speaking her truths and having her family give her just the reaction she wanted. They hurt like she did, just for a moment. 

 

“Sansa.” Ned’s voice was calm and stern, “I think you should go to your room.”

 

“Good God, Dad, I’m 27 not 12.” Sansa kicked her chair over and stormed out to the back porch, craving a cigarette.

 

She had taken to smoking sparatically, just for the kick of it. It reminded her of all the frat parties she attended at Harry’s side.

 

When she sat down on the back porch steps, she let her tears fall freely. Their hot, wet tracks finding their familiar path down her reddened cheeks. It wasn’t warm outside but she wasn’t cold either. Sansa let her head rest on the side of the house, her breath short and sputtering as the tears fell from her eyes.

 

She cried for her family who had to keep this secret because they felt she was so fragile. The hurt wracked her bones. The doubt that her older brother thought she could handle hearing anything besides the weather as a news update made her want to absolutely lose it. 

 

Sansa wanted to be better, she wanted to _feel_ better. 

 

Her heart ached for a sense of normalcy.

 

Harry haunted her in every way possible and it completely drowned her. When she wasn’t busy feeling sorry for herself, she was a raging lunatic. Angry at the world, angry at any and everybody. Sometimes she wished that she could join him in the coffin, just to have peace.

 

But she could never, ever imagine purposefully passing this pain on to her siblings and parents.

 

Sansa had never felt more alone.

 

“You want a smoke?” Jon Snow’s voice was grainy behind her.

 

Sansa shook her head violently.

 

Jon silently sunk beside her, taking a deep drag from his Marlboro.

 

Sansa wiped furiously at her tears, and picked her head up from resting on the house. Jon looked old. His beard was full and his hair was pulled into a low bun. Sansa began to chew on her lip when he saw her watching him. But Jon didn’t move, he only stared out into the evening sky and smoked.

 

“How are they?” Sansa looked out at the horizon.

 

“Pretty upset. You really did a number back there.” Jon blew smoke from his nose.

 

“Is mom crying?” Sansa already knew the answer.

 

“So is Talisa. But Talisa cries at Lifetime movies so I wouldn’t feel too bad about that.” Jon shrugged.

 

Sansa let her head fall against the house again, “God. I called her stupid.”

 

“She is.” Jon chewed on his thumbnail.

 

Sansa snapped up, “That’s not nice!”

 

“I didn’t say it to her face.” Jon smirked at her, and Sansa scowled back.

 

“I don’t want to be twenty seven. I’m closer to 30 than 20.” Sansa closed her eyes and tried to imagine what it was like being 20. Perky tits and college essays. Finding out who her little was in her sorority and finally getting accepted into her major.

 

“Nobody does.” Jon put out his cigarette and tossed it over the railing.

 

“That’s littering.” Sansa noted.

 

“It is.” Jon pulled his jacket tighter to himself, “You should apologize.”

 

“I don’t want to.” Sansa stared at her shoes when she remembered the look on her mom’s face.

 

“Yeah, but you’re 27 and you need to.” Jon cracked his knuckles and neck, making Sansa wince.

 

“Where’s Ygritte?” Sansa was suddenly curious. She hadn't heard much about Jon's girlfriend since New Years and Ygritte had only been back to the house with Jon once or twice when he'd stop by with Robb. 

 

“At her house.”

 

“Oh.” Sansa wasn’t going to fish if Jon wasn’t going to take the bait. She watched him chew on his thumbnail some more before taking a deep breath, “She’s pretty.”

 

“She is.” Jon nodded and rose to his feet, out stretching his hand, “Come on birthday girl, you should go back to your party.”

 

“I don’t want to.” Sansa looked up at Jon and saw the bags beneath his eyes, the wrinkles on his shirt. “Are you alright Jon?”

 

“Not always. But I’m happy to be here.” He wiggled his fingers urging her to grab on. Sansa took hold of his grasp and pulled herself up to stand. “Happy to be here for my birthday?”

 

“Happy to be here with the Starks and the birthday girl. Now come on, Granny.” He pulled her back to the glass sliding door where she saw her family sullenly cleaning the table up.

 

Sansa thought about New Years and the cigarettes and squeezed Jon’s grip before he dropped it and opened up the door, “Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you,” Jon began to sing until the family chimed in.

 

Everyone’s glum melted from their faces as her and Jon walked through the kitchen, dropping the plates and trash from their hands.

 

“YOU LOOK LIKE A MONKEY, AND YOU SMELL LIKE ONE TOO!” The Stark siblings shouted as Sansa crossed the room to hug Talisa, “You’re not stupid. I’m so sorry.”

 

“It’s okay, Sansa Hardyng.” Talisa squeezed her tightly and clapped along with everyone as the song ended.

 

Sansa looked at Jon standing beside Bran, giving her a thumbs up.


	3. End All Be All

# Chapter Three: End All Be All

* * *

 

 

By May, Sansa was employed once again. The idea of being around fabrics and designing was just so far out of reach; another life in another world that Sansa was no longer a part of. She took solace in sketches and doodles of animals and landscapes when sleep escaped her, but not much else. Art would open a door she wasn't quite ready to touch yet.

 

It was her father’s idea to get back to work. Ned was careful not to make her feel unwelcome, there was no kidding that there wasn’t more than enough money to provide for her. But just for what was left of her sanity. Sansa thrived on a schedule and it had been becoming sleeping until noon and watching as many Law and Order SVU episodes as she could before going to bed once more.

 

Sansa knew it was time to turn the page, but she was so unsure and nervous. Duke’s Steaks was an easy enough job, even if the manager was a bit of a dick.

 

It was a simple crowd. Mostly teenagers on dates or a bunch of men huddled around the pool tables or bar to watch various sports games. Sansa began to enjoy the small talk and busying herself with long hours.

 

It was a packed and crazy Friday night: Sansa’s new favorite. There was always something to do and things to keep organized. She had 4 tables, needed to bus 2, and was due to roll some silverware soon. Humming to herself, she weaved through the crowds around the bar before feeling a hand grasp her.

 

Out of shock, she jerked away and reached out to slap the offender, but froze instead, making eye contact with the one and only Jon Snow.

 

“Jon?” Her voice was shaky, and it embarrassed her enough that she felt the heat rise to her cheeks. Sansa pulled her arm from his grasp and smoothed down her apron.

 

“What are you doing here?” Jon sat atop a barstool smirking at her.

 

“Working! What does it look like?” Sansa motioned to her boot cut jeans, plaid flannel, and stupid cowgirl hat that covered her braids.

 

“Looks like you’re ready to go wrangle the cattle.” Jon bit his lower lip to keep from laughing and Sansa scowled.

 

“What are you doing here?” Sansa crossed her arms.

 

“I was supposed to meet up with your Dad next door at Olive Garden, but he bailed, so, here I am.” Jon motioned to the obnoxious mug of beer before him.

 

“My dad?” Her dad hadn’t mentioned anything about Jon in a while. Sansa herself hadn’t seen or heard from him since her birthday almost two months ago.

 

“Yeah, he had a book to give me for my class. And... life’s just been pretty crazy.” Jon averted his eyes to nervously flit at the television above them. Sansa tilted her head, “A book?”

 

“Yes. A book. I teach, don’t you remember?” Jon took a pull of his beer and his eyes lit up in that teasing way they did when they were young. He loved to tell Sansa she had food in her teeth or her hair was messed up, just so he and Robb could crack up as she’d run back inside to check.

 

Sansa didn’t remember. What she did remember was going to his graduation and holding Harry’s hand the entire time. Harry had just started a job at a new law firm and was in an awful mood for the entirety of Jon’s ceremony and after party. Harry insisted they leave early and handed Jon a wad of twenty-dollar bills before pulling Sansa out of her family’s backyard.

 

Sansa wondered if Jon remembered that.

 

“What's up though? Are you-“ Sansa was cut off by a sharp sigh behind her.

 

“Sansa. This is the dinner hour rush, not the time to flirt at the bar and forget about your tables. Back to work, please.” Nick, the manager’s, voice was so stern and condescending that Sansa actually cringed. In fear? Embarrassment? Shock?

 

The same heat rose to her cheeks and she began to back away, “Yeah. Sorry. I guess I’ll see you around.” Sansa went to turn on her heel, ready to catch back up with work. She made a mental note to text Robb and tell him about seeing Jon alone at the bar. She might even ask Robb if he knew anything about why Jon would say things were rough for him lately.

 

“Wait. Sansa!” Jon called, and against Sansa’s better judgment, she turned to look at him. Alone at a bar in a black t-shirt and thick beard. Since when did Jon have a beard?

 

“When are you off?” Jon asked, scratching at the black hair on his chin.

 

“Alright man, she’s working. This is hardly appropriate Sansa.” Nick snapped, his arms crossed.

 

“I’m off at 11.”

 

“I’m going to your house for the book. I’ll see you there, yeah?” Jon nodded, completely ignoring Nick and turning to face forward in his stool once again.

 

“Alright Sansa, now that your love life is all set, how about we bus some tables and get table 8 their ketchup, hm?” Nick rolled his eyes as he pushed past her.

 

Sansa smiled as she scrubbed at the tables and when she was asked to stay a little later to roll silverware; she didn’t even mind.

 

When she walked into her parent’s home, it was dark and quiet. Usually her mom left her some leftovers to warm up in the fridge, so she beelined it to the kitchen ready for some dinner. Sansa noticed Jon’s car parked outside the house but played it cool as if she wasn’t searching for him when she made her way to her leftovers.

 

The light was on and she could hear music softly playing as she walked closer to the kitchen and down the long hallway. “Hello?” She called out, she wanted to rule out Rickon grabbing a midnight snack before getting her hopes up.

 

“Hello.” Jon sat at the kitchen island, his phone before him softly playing an old Fleet Foxes album. “How was work?”

 

Sansa beamed at him, she didn’t think she’d ever been so excited to see him since she’d known him. But Jon sat there playing DJ with her father’s book opened beside him and she had to bite back an overwhelming smile. “It was work. What book did he give you?”

 

“The Magical Year of Thinking.” Jon closed the book to show Sansa the cover.

 

Her smile dropped immediately.

 

Ned had shoved that book at her time and time again since Harry died. It was some stupid fucking book about grieving and death and how you move forward or some crap like that. Ned insisted it wasn’t some self-help book, but Sansa refused to sit down and read a book about husbands dying and woe is the world around you.

 

Sansa refused to read much of anything anymore.

 

“Why the sour face?” Jon’s head tilted, and Sansa walked over to the fridge.

 

“My dad tried to get me to read that when Harry died.” Sometimes Sansa still got a thrill from being so blunt about it all, just to watch people flinch.

 

But Jon didn’t falter. His stone face remained calm, his eyes wide and kind. “I just started it when I was waiting for you. It’s really heartbreaking so far.”

 

“Death usually is.” Sansa pulled out the plate with her name on it. Baked chicken, carrots, and some mashed potatoes.

 

“Remember when you made me heat you up Chinese food in the middle of the night?” Jon scoffed, “We sat right here, and you made me eat it with you.”

 

Sansa froze. Her embarrassment must have caused her to seem angry, because she could hear Jon shifting uncomfortably behind her.

 

“Not that I didn’t want to. Uh, sorry.” Jon moved to put the book inside the black bookbag beside his feet, “I liked eating it with you. The Chinese. You ate a lot.”

 

Jon jerked back up to gape at Sansa, “Jesus. I’m sorry. I just, am not really sure what else to say right now. I think I’ll stick my foot in my mouth now.”

 

Sansa smirked at his uncomfortable ramblings and sat at the stool one away from him, “S’okay.”

 

“How much longer are you going to stay here?” Jon looked around the family kitchen and Sansa flinched. Nobody had asked her that yet. She wondered if he judged her for staying locked up in her parent’s mansion so long. Hiding away from the real world and all its problems.

 

“I’d like to stay here again. Remember that one summer I got to live here for a month?” Jon gazed around the kitchen, “Your mom absolutely hated it. I never cleaned, and I made the most mess.”

 

Sansa didn’t really remember. “I think I was at horse camp majority of that month.” Sansa popped the plate into her microwave.

 

“Nope. You were here, you were like 15.” Jon smirked.

 

Oh god. 15. That was the summer of Loras Tyrell. Sansa cringed dramatically and puckered her face, “Oh, Loras.”

 

“That kid was probably the worst one. What an absolute wanker.” Jon let out a choked laugh and reached for the glass of water before him. Sansa laughed and closed her eyes, memories flooding to the forefront of her mind containing Loras' impeccable wardrobe, wandering eye, and very fond admiration of both Madonna and Cher. It’s silly to think of how naïve she had been.

 

“He was a great kisser.” Sansa smirked.

 

“Had a lot of practice with the boys on his water polo team.” Jon bit his lip and Sansa tossed her head back, letting out a loud, true hyena laugh. Jon cackled along with her as they made more and more comments back and forth of Loras cheating on her with an assorted crew of boys from their school, of how tight his pants were, and the way Loras always stared at himself.

 

“You stare at yourself in mirrors all the time, Jon Snow.” Sansa accused. She’d seen him tirelessly pulling and tucking at his hair in every reflective surface possible for as long as he started to grow his hair out.

 

“Did I mention how much I liked Loras?” Jon raised his eyebrows and Sansa rolled her eyes, smiling as she pulled her plate from the microwave. She sat beside Jon at the kitchen island, pulling off her ridiculous cowboy hat.

 

“Do you like work?” Jon looked at the hat and then back to her, he paused the music that had been playing from his phone.

 

“I like working.” Sansa shrugged as she popped a carrot in her mouth.

 

“Why don’t you go back to design? Isn’t that what you were doing?” Jon kept staring at her braids and get up. Sansa went stiff under his judgmental gaze, “I’m doing fine at the steak house.”

 

“But you loved it there. That’s what your family always said.” Jon was like a dog. He’d bite onto to something and wouldn’t let go until you gave him what he wanted. And in this case, Sansa didn’t know what he wanted out of this conversation.

 

“I did. But I left and now I work at a steak house and live at my parent's home.” Sansa kept eating, hoping that answer would suffice. She put enough venom in her tone to let Jon know she didn’t want to get into it.

 

“Did you design your old house?” Jon stopped checking out her uniform and stared straight ahead.

 

“Yes. It took forever, and it had been absolutely perfect, I don't think I ever did as well on any other job.” Sansa had been so proud of it. She picked out every color, every accent wall, the decorations, the lighting, the flooring. Sansa had drawn up sketch after sketch, spent tireless days at the design studio, and would redecorate for every holiday. It was her absolute passion.

 

“Why’d you sell it?” It was an honest question that Sansa was expecting.

 

Truth be told, she regretted selling the house. All her heart and soul went into making it a home with her dead husband. In a haste she had insisted on erasing everything that could remind her of Harry, but now she longed to lay just one more time in the bed she had shared with her husband.

 

“I didn’t want to live there.”

 

“Do you like living here?” Jon looked her straight in the eyes.

 

“Ok, what’s with the interrogation?” Sansa threw her fork onto the granite counter top, it clanged against the plate causing her to jump. But Jon didn’t move a single muscle, he just kept on staring at her.

 

“You have a passion, you have a purpose, and you’re sitting at your parent’s house serving steaks and sleeping in your childhood twin bed. Don’t you want a place of your own?” Jon tilted his head.

 

“Of course, I do. You know what Jon, thanks for coming. It was nice to see you. You've been really kind to me this past year, but I really don’t feel like being scolded on how my life looks from the outside.” Sansa scooted back from the island. The metal stool legs scraping along the wood floors.

 

“I just think you could be happy if you tried.” Jon shrugged.

 

“Oh?” Sansa narrowed her eyes, a fire lit inside her, “Says the man teaching English classes? Weren’t you going to write some great novel? Explore the world? You’re still in Winterfell, teaching at university, living in some shit apartment. So, don’t lecture me on happiness and chasing dreams.” Sansa hopped down, grabbing her plate, “This is real life. Where your husband dies, and you work at a university teaching to kids who don’t even care.”

 

“You could be different. You don’t have to be like me.” Jon’s voice was quiet.

 

“What is with this intervention? Christ! Did my parents send you?” Sansa’s eyes went to his book bag with the stupid book she refused to read, that had to be it. Her dad gave him the grief book and told him all about how Sansa is this hopeless freeloader destined to leech from him for life.

 

“If my parents wanted me out they could’ve just said something.” Sansa snapped and tossed her plate into the sink.

 

“Are you happy? Do you love to get in screaming matches every time someone asks you how you feel?” Jon gathered up his jacket and bookbag.

 

“Excuse me?” Sansa’s nostrils flared.

 

“It's exhausting, to be frank. You're a better person than that.” Jon pulled on his jacket and turned to walk out.

 

“Why did you come over here! Why!” Sansa stomped her foot like a child.

 

“Because you're too talented to be so lost. I want to help you Sansa, not because your parents asked or because I feel sorry for you. Because you don't deserve to be living the way you are. Harry was not the end all be all, you are Sansa. You're not just _Sansa Hardyng_.” Jon looked over his shoulder, “I’m off to make up lesson plans for a bunch of kids who don’t care.”

 

“Good!” Tears stung her eyes as he left out the kitchen, leaving Sansa alone in the silent house. Sobs wracked Sansa for the first time in months. Everything had been so numb, so colorless, so plain. She forced everything away so that she wouldn’t feel this unbearable weight. The pain of everything crashing down. Her loneliness, her lack of motivation, and the feeling of being single all over again.

 

Harry Hardyng was the end all be all, she had always been so sure of it.

 

**xxxxxxxxxx**

 

One year.

 

It had been one full year of being a widow. One whole year of mostly downs, but even a few ups. Sansa still couldn’t get her mind completely wrapped around it.

 

There was a dinner at her parent’s house, she invited everyone over, and made Harry’s favorite twice baked potatoes and marinated steaks. Arya choked down the carefully prepared meat even though Sansa couldn’t even remember the last time she’d seen Arya eat something not fried or in a bun.

 

Conversation was seamless and easy. There was so much joy surrounding Talisa and Robb’s upcoming wedding, Rickon’s hockey try outs, and both Sansa and Arya's jobs that it was easy to avoid feeling sorry for herself. 

 

Bran threw a chive at Rickon and completely missed, whacking Talisa on her cheek. The family roared with laughter, drinks were topped off, and everyone was finishing up their meal.

 

“I wanted to thank you all for being there for me. I couldn’t ask for a better family.” Sansa nodded to herself. She had never thought of it before, but now, around her family’s table with everyone sharing a meal just for her, it brought her a violent flashback to her miserable birthday party. Just for a moment she remembered the fighting and the awkwardness and felt the tension leave her shoulders at how pleasant tonight had gone.

 

The Starks were by her side throughout everything and they absolutely always would be.

 

“You will always be a Stark.” Catelyn grinned at her from across the table, and Rickon wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Smelly Starks forever.”

 

Sansa leaned into Rickon and thanked him with a light squeeze. When all else failed, Rickon could always make her smile.

 

“Oh, shit, I forgot.” Robb reached beside him and pulled up a navy-blue gift bag, he shoved it down the table, “Jon’s sorry he couldn’t make it. He wanted me to give you this.”

 

Sansa hadn’t even invited him. She’d avoided him if he ever dropped by the house and hadn’t spoken a word to him since he came over three months ago.

 

Sansa wordlessly ripped the paper tissues out and saw a sketchbook with brand new coloring pencils.

 

A note was taped to the side and Sansa grabbed it up like it was going to save her.

 

“ _We are imperfect mortal beings, aware of that mortality even as we push it away. Failed by our very complication, so wired that when we mourn our losses we also mourn, for better or for worse, ourselves. As we were. As we are no longer. As we will one day not be at all_.” –Year of Magical Thinking.

 

Good luck.

Jon.”

 

Sansa looked around the table at everyone’s stares and she grinned wildly, “A sketchbook!”

 

Everybody smiled like they were in on something, but Sansa didn’t press. She was elated to have gotten such a nice gift and even more happy to be having dinner with all her siblings. There was no beating around a bush, a lingering, a pit of despair and awkwardness as everyone fumbled for safe topics of conversation. Sansa sat with her family and talked about how she needed new shoes and that her boss was an asswipe.

 

That night she stayed up until dawn sketching her dream home.

 

 

As she laid her head down on her pillow she pulled her phone out to send a text to Jon Snow, “Thank you for everything xo”

 

Maybe making a new house was her end all be all. Maybe getting out of Duke's steak would be her new end all be all. Maybe Sansa Stark was enough to be her own end all be all.

 

 


	4. Coffee Beans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **mention of eating disorder in this chapter, but I don't plan on getting into it. Also an admission to cheating. If it ain't your jam then don't read.

# Chapter Three: Coffee Beans

* * *

 

 

Sansa hadn't been back to Winterfell U since Arya’s graduation two years ago. She, Robb, and Jon had all found themselves at the hipster city school right in their childhood stomping grounds. Sansa would have rather died, there was no way she'd sit in trendy coffee shops and go to improv shows in between studying.

  
  
For Winterfell in May, it was awfully hot and humid. Sansa had woken up to Jon answering her thanks, where he then invited her to come up to check out Winterfell University and get the grand tour. She had eagerly agreed, bummed that their last hang out had been cut short by all the bitterness. Jon insisted he’d have time to grab a cup of coffee with her even though he was gathering up plans for his summer session.

  
“Hey.” Sansa looked up away from her phone to the shadow casting down over her. She had sat herself down on a random bench on campus’ tiny quad while she waited on him.

  
  
Jon was wearing khakis, his staple boots, and a light blue button up shirt. His wild hair was down and his eyebrows were scrunched over his sunglasses, “Wrong school, missy.”

  
She was rocking some athletic shorts with a red Kings Landing College t-shirt and her new sneakers. Sansa inwardly cringed at how underdressed she was, but she figured it was going to be a casual meet up. Suddenly she felt so foolish stressing over how to dress when they were just getting coffee. It was only Jon.

 

 

“Like you'd ever catch me in Winterfell apparel.” Sansa scoffed as she rose to her feet and Jon smiled.

  
“Green is a Sansa staple though.” Jon taunted her high school saying.

 

  
“Yeah, yeah 16 year old me was unbearable.” Sansa pulled at her ponytail and rolled her eyes.

  
“You weren't so bad.” Jon shrugged and pulled at his messenger bag, he had a cup of coffee in one hand and a book in the other.

  
Sansa ignored his playful tone, because who really wants to rehash high school? “I thought we were going to get coffee?”

  
“We are! This is from a few hours ago.” Jon rattled the empty cup, “I got this cup because I get half off and I live on the hot bean water.”

  
“You drink it black?” Sansa’s nose scrunched and they started to make their way through campus, “Could you be any more stereotypical?”

  
“I don't obsess over Hamlet if that helps my case at all.”

  
“Don't you love Jane Austen? I think that falls into the cheesy typical English professor category.” Sansa smiled at the memory of Jon telling her parents his intended English major. Exactly 0 people were surprised.

  
  
“Ya know what….” Jon playfully kicked at her shin.

  
They walked the rest of the way to this supposedly incredible coffee place in comfortable silence. Winterfell University’s campus was pretty dead since the spring semester was over and summer sessions hadn’t begun yet. There were still a few spare kids running around with their headphones, beanies, and Chelsea boots. Sansa shook her head at the cliché as she rubbed at the sweat on her brow. It was unbearably hot outside, in the type of way that doing anything more than breathing was a huge effort.

  
“Winterfell is not supposed to be this hot.” Sansa whined.

  
  
“Global warming.” Jon’s eyebrows danced teasingly.

  
  
Harry was an avid global warming denier. Sansa thought about mentioning that, but Jon had opened the door to coffee and was motioning her into air conditioning.

  
Sansa ordered an iced cold brew while Jon stuck with black coffee in his reusable cup. He knew the barista by name and told her he was sorry he had to work over summer.

  
  
“You really do come here a lot.” Sansa watched the young girl take the next order.

  
“Well yeah, but she was also my student last semester. Her name’s Emily and she wrote wonderful essays.” Jon grabbed her and Sansa’s coffees as soon as they were done, giving a final wave to Emily before they sat at a corner booth.

  
“So, how’d you like the sketchbook?” Jon held eye contact in such an intimidating way, Sansa found herself looking everywhere but at him.

  
“It was great. I just wanted to thank you in person.” Sansa sighed and folded her hands on the table, “I also want to apologize for what I said a while back.”

  
Jon smirked and nodded for her to go on.

  
“It was awful. I didn't mean it. I just-I didn't….I hated when you were right.” Sansa returned his eye contact, but it was time for him to look away.

  
“I didn't want to be right.” Jon shrugged.

  
“Well, you were. Duke’s steakhouse is a joke and I should be back in design.” Sansa nodded at her words, she hadn't said them out loud to anybody yet.

  
“You should.” Jon nodded with her.

  
  
“And you should write a novel.” Sansa pointed at his messenger bag crammed with papers.

  
  
“One day. I don't have anything to write about yet.” Jon took a sip of his coffee and turned to his bag. He fetched out “The Magical Year of Thinking” that her father had loaned him and slid it across the table. “You should give it a shot.”

  
  
Sansa opened her mouth to argue. To snap about not needing a sob story to help her through her woes; but decided she'd been bitch enough to Jon lately, and he was only trying.

Sansa snatched it up and thanked him.

  
  
“I think you'll really like it.”

  
  
“We’ll see.”

  
  
xxxxxxxxxxx

  
  
The book was amazing, along with every other story Jon suggested Sansa read. All her life, she'd love a good book every now and again, but every one of Jon’s recommendations were equally poetic, heartbreaking, and absolutely breathtaking. Each one would make their coffee meet ups better and better. Sansa even grew to know Emily the barista for herself.

  
After reading “The Magical Year of Thinking,” Jon and Sansa made a habit of meeting up every Tuesday and Thursday for lunch at the same café. It’d been a great way to distract herself from the restaurant, her family, and gave her something to look forward to. She’d been sad last night when she realized that Jon’s summer classes were almost finished, and she wondered if he would still want to keep meeting up and reading books.

 

But today, Sansa had big news to spill as they sat down at their usual spot.

  
  
“I quit Duke’s!” Sansa beamed, knowing Jon would be proud of her. She had been so thrilled to share the news with him, but had forced herself not to text him right after her explosive exit from the restaraunt.

 

She'd been absolutely buzzing off the high of finally telling her manager off and being freed from casual sexual harassment and awful hours. The first person she had wanted to share the excitement with was Jon, but he stared at her relatively unaffected. In fact, his eyes were dull behind the deep purple bags sagging beneath them. His hair was more disheveled and messy today rather than its usual purposeful careless curls. Jon finally smiled meekly and nodded at her in response to her news.

  
  
“Hello! I quit the cheesy steakhouse! See ya never Nick!” Sansa jokingly threw her hands in the air but she quickly lowered them in disappointment, “What?” She had been so sure he'd celebrate with her.

 

  
“What now?” Jon looked over his mug as he took a sip of his coffee, “What's next for Sansa Hardyng?”

 

  
Sansa furrowed her eyebrows, “I don't know. I just quit my shitty job for you, I thought you'd be happy about that at least.”

  
  
“For me?” Jon’s eyebrows raised in confusion.

 

“You've bitched at me from the start!” Sansa was growing irritated.

 

  
“All I asked was what's next?” Jon shrugged, “Congrats on leaving though.”

 

  
Sansa’s heart sank to her stomach at Jon’s nonchalant response. She almost had to fight back tears, her feelings were left reeling at his attitude. It was as if he were just brushing her off.

 

And now that Sansa thought of it, Jon had been off on their Tuesday meet up too. Lots of nodding and grunts, he didn't really have much to say about his class or the book Sansa was currently pouring over. Today, he was almost solemn looking when they met up at his office.

  
  
“What's the matter?” Sansa spoke softly, taking in Jon’s dark eyes.

  
“Ygritte is leaving me.” Jon looked down at his coffee cup.

  
  
“Oh.” Was all Sansa could muster.

  
Jon hadn't spoken of Ygritte since they started seeing each other regularly. Sansa strained her memory to try to even remember what she looked like. All that she could think of was New Years. How her fiery hair fell in loose strands from her neat braid and the way her arms had wrapped around Jon, like she couldn't have been happier elsewhere.

  
“Yeah.” Jon sat back in the booth and looked to the ceiling then to Sansa, his eyes hardened.

  
“I'm sorry to hear that.” Sansa swallowed, trying to think of what else to say.

  
“Yeah well, me too.” Jon pushed his messy curls behind his ears and shrunk into himself. It was a hard sight to take in, and Sansa swallowed at the sight of him.

  
“Did you… live together?” Guilt poured into Sansa’s chest when she realized how little she really knew of Jon’s personal life. Sure she knew he loved a good romance novel, loathed Nicholas Sparks, and took his coffee black, but how long had he and Ygritte even been together? Sansa chewed at her bottom lip.

  
“Yes Sansa. We lived together.” Jon was short and harsh but Sansa couldn't blame him.

  
“Are you going to keep the place?” Sansa fiddled with her shirt’s hem.

  
  
“Yes, it’s a nice place.” Jon swallowed the last of his coffee.

  
  
“I've never seen it.” Sansa said.

  
“You never asked to. You never really ask anything.” Jon ran his hand over his beard and rested it on his chin before shaking his head.

  
  
It's the truth. A painful moment of silence passes as Sansa thinks on the last time she asked Jon anything about himself or heard him tell her about his favorite movie or what he and Robb did over the weekend. "Oh. Yeah. Well..." Sansa sputters and drowns in possible excuses, but they all are lost at sea when she sees Jon's hardened gaze.

 

 

One time when they had all been children, Robb had both Jon and his friend Theon over to play with his siblings. It was the summer right before Sansa's seventh grade school year, and Theon made some shitty comment about her being so flat chested he could use her as a diving board to cannonball into the pool. Robb had been inside attempting to steal a bottle of Coke from Ned's stash to replace the sugar free lemonade Cat had insisted they drink. God, her health kick that summer had been unbearable. 

 

Jon's eyes were the same then as they are now. Dark, vast, and unpredictable. He'd told Theon to fuck off and when all he got in response was a dismissive huff, Jon snatched him up by the collar of his t-shirt and hissed horrible, seething words that Sansa couldn't make out over Arya's gasp. All her life she'd never been close to Jon, so she couldn't figure out why he took it upon himself to defend her honor. Sansa flicked them both off and continued pretty much ignoring the both of them for the rest of her teenage years. 

 

Yet often enough the memory of his eyes that day would leak into the forefront of her mind, the way his eyes turned into that vat of oil so harsh that it shut the biggest mouth in all of Westeros. The same eyes that currently stared back at her, lacking all the warmth and calm that usually made him look so thoughtful. It was almost frightening to see someone look so sharp. 

  
“You never ask me anything. All we talk about is books and you.”

  
Sansa flinched at the harshness in his tone, “That's not true! We talk about your school!” Sansa quickly came to her own defense.

  
“Nice small talk bullshit,” Jon sighed and shook his head again, “You never ask.”

  
Sansa searched through every conversation they'd had over the summer and couldn't come up with one occasion where she had asked about him. She really, truly didn't even know where he lived exactly. Her mouth opened and closed, and then she looked to her shoes.

  
“It's stupid, forget it. I'm not even mad at you, it's just…” Jon trailed off.

  
  
“You've been so nice to me and I never even asked why you said shit had been rough all those months ago when you showed up at Duke’s.” Sansa looked up to Jon looking out the window.

  
  
They made eye contact once again, but this time he was much more gentle. An echo of his anger still reflected back to her, but Sansa fought through her urge to look away, “Do you think maybe I could come over to your house?”

  
“If you want. It's a mess.” Jon was the first to drop eye contact, his gaze looking out the window beside them once more.

  
“Is she still there?” Sansa found the courage to ask.

  
“I don't think so.” Jon scratched at his beard. “Just…why don't you come tomorrow. I'd rather not randomly show up with you, I don’t think that'd go over well.”

  
Sansa nodded without really understanding. Did Ygritte even know who she was? “I'm sorry I never asked.”

  
“You've been through a lot. I didn't mean it, I just..I wanted to tell you, but you didn't know about her, and I want you to know. You're my friend.” Jon looked at the time.

  
“You're my friend too. I want to hear about her, if you want to share.” Sansa was desperately curious about the red haired beauty who came to that party almost a year ago.

  
“I met her in grad school. She’s real stubborn but even more funny and beautiful-“ Jon cut himself off by looking at Sansa. “I fucked it up, I fucked _her_ up.”

  
Sansa tilted her head in confusion and attempted to hide her shock. Jon had been nothing but thoughtful throughout this odd friendship, she couldn't imagine Jon mistreating anybody. “What do you mean?”

  
“I kissed someone else and I drink too much. Work and school has been coming first, she lost a brother and I wasn't all that good at being there for her. Ygritte has anorexia and she's relapsed. When I pointed it out two weeks ago, shit really hit the fan.” Jon spoke so quickly and softly, Sansa wasn't really sure she heard him correctly.

  
Kissed someone else? Who on Earth?

  
Drinking?

  
Sansa’s heart hurt for Ygritte, she clutched her hands together and took a deep breath in, trying to figure out where to start. “How long have you been with her?”

  
“Four years.” Jon’s face fell to his hands, “God, Sansa, I don't know what the hell I’m doing. What the hell am I going to do?”

  
Sansa gaped at the sullen man in front of her. It sounded awful the things he’d done and what he was going through, enough to make her want to walk away selfishly. But something kept her there, something made her want to stay and see his place and listen about this girl he had treated so badly.

  
“You keep going. That's all you can do.”

  
Jon looked at her.

 

Really, really looked at her.

  

Sansa sat up straight under his stare while she forced herself to give him a reassuring smile.

  
“You quit Duke’s?” Jon stuck his tongue in his cheek to keep from laughing.

  
“Yes! No more cowboy hats for this cowgirl!” Sansa tipped an imaginary hat at him and they smiled at one another.

  
Because when bad things happen, you keep going, and you smile while you do it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> People make mistakes. Jon is human. I'm excited to build him up from here.


	5. Watches

# Chapter Five: Watches

* * *

 

 

Robb sighed heavily as soon as Sansa pulled herself up into his passenger side of his Jeep. This was bound to get a little awkward.

 

For whatever reason, her and Jon’s summer meet ups had turned into a secret. Not in a suspicious kind of way. Well. Not intentionally suspicious.

 

Just, they were special, and Sansa felt like if she had told her family where she had gone, it wouldn’t have been what it was.

 

Whatever it was.

 

They all watched her perk up but drew it from the warm summer months and her newfound interest in reading. Sansa sketched in all her free time, and even suggested to her mother that she’d like to reupholster some of the chairs around the house.

 

Ned had jumped on that and asked that she redo his study. It was rather dark and dull with tons of 90s flair to it. Cat had half heartedly thrown it together when they first moved in 25 years ago.

 

When Sansa and her Dad were inspecting the emerald paint and dark cherry moldings, her phone lit up with Jon’s contact right on Ned’s desk.

 

His eyes lit up, “He must be calling for me or your mother. My phone is in my bedroom.” He reached out to pick it up, and before Sansa could get a word out, he answered, “Hello Jon, is everything alright?”

 

Sansa held her breath with wide eyes as silence pierced the air. Ned looked to Sansa and nodded, “Oh, um, it’s for you.”

 

Just as he passed her cell phone back to her, Robb waltzed in, chewing loudly on some pretzels and gazing around the room. “Mom said Sansa was going to repaint the whole house.”

 

“The whole house?” Sansa snapped her attention to her brother, her cell phone face up in her palm.

 

“Who’s on the phone?” Robb popped another pretzel in his mouth.

 

“ _Jon Snow_.” Ned’s voice had a tone, but Sansa couldn’t put her finger on it.

 

“Hello? Sansa?” Jon’s voice confirmed Ned’s claim. Robb reached forward and snatched it from her.

 

“Hey! It’s my phone!” She was annoyed at everyone grabbing it from her.

 

“ _What the hell man_! I called you two nights ago and this morning! And you never texted me back about this weekend.” Robb voice whined with a childish note and Sansa fought the urge to brag that Jon had texted her last night to ask her how the book was.

 

“She is? Well I’ll come. I gotta go pick up some fancy paper for Talisa anyways. She’s making the invitations.” Robb looked at Sansa and Ned.

 

“Thanks princess. We’ll talk later.” Ned gently kissed the crown of her head and gave a loving squeeze to her arm. He patted Robb’s shoulder as he slipped out of his own study.

 

Her father was a very smart, intuitive man.

 

Robb ended the call and spun to glare at Sansa, “Why are you going to Jon’s?”

 

“I’ve never been.” Sansa answered simply.

 

“So what? Why would you?” Robb shoved her phone forward and she snatched it back, scowling at him while doing so.

 

“Because he’s our friend! I heard about him and Ygritte and I wanted to…help.” Sansa shrugged and pushed her phone into her shorts pocket.

 

Robb crossed his arms, “Help?”

 

“Yeah. I can help him change up his house once Ygritte leaves.”

 

“Ygritte’s leaving?” Robb’s eyebrows rose.

 

Shit.

 

“Um.” Sansa chewed on her lip and wiggled her fingers, “I think I said too much.”

 

“He’s been AWOL! This wedding shit is driving me crazy. I love Talisa but Jesus Christ, I don’t give a shit which font we use or what tint of gold the napkins are. I asked him to get drinks a couple of nights but he keeps blowing me off.” Robb made a face, “And since when are you two friends?”

 

“Since my birthday! He’s nice to me!” Sansa snapped, “Not everyone wants to listen to your wedding crap all the time, it’s so boring. How awful it must be that you have a beautiful girl who is dumb enough to want to spend the rest of her life with an oaf like you.”

 

“Jon is my friend! He has time for you to come over but not enough to let me buy him a God damn beer?!” Robb shoved his hands in his pockets, “I’m coming with you. I’ll drive.”

 

Sansa played out a potential fight on in her head, but knew inevitably, Robb would win. And she couldn’t blame him. Jon was his best friend and she found it just as weird as he did that Jon hadn’t been answering him. “Fine.” She sighed.

 

 

“Let’s go.” Robb led the way out to his car, and there they sat. He thrummed his fingers against the steering wheel, glaring at the road ahead of them.

 

“When was the last time you talked to Jon?” Robb was playing with fire and Sansa was torn between honesty and potentially hurting his feelings. Robb switched his icy glare from the road to his sister.

 

 _To hell with Robb’s ego,_ Sansa thought right before she answered, “Last night.” 

 

“Honestly, what the fuck?” Robb took a sharp turn into a town home neighborhood, littered with it’s owners gardening, mowing, and children playing about. Sansa steeled herself for Robb’s next sharp turn and even let out a little shriek when he slammed on brakes in front of what she assumed was Jon’s place.

 

It was tall and made of red brick, like every other town home around it. The front door had a wreath with fall leaves, and Sansa scrunched her nose at the dead potted plants on the front porch steps. Robb stormed up to the door, leaving Sansa to try and jog to catch up with his infuriated steps.

 

“Jesus Robb, will you relax! You’re acting like a _child!_ ” Sansa hissed when they reached the front door.

 

Jon swung it open, looking miserable. He had his glasses on with a white Hanes undershirt and stained navy basketball shorts. Nothing like the collected, professional college professor Sansa had been hanging out with this summer. Robb opened his mouth and closed it a couple times before Sansa smiled, “Hey. Can we come in?”

 

Jon silently stepped aside as she pushed through, Robb followed closely behind.

 

“I didn’t know you and Ygritte broke up.” Robb said breathlessly, peering around Jon’s messy home. All around the living room were piles of clothes, decorations, and shoes. Sansa gulped when she saw a baby onesie by what she assumed was a trash pile.

 

“We did.” Jon sighed as he shut the front door. “She’s over at Tormund’s place now.”

 

“ _Tormund_?” Robb was astounded, accusing even.

 

Sansa’s eyes flitted between the two men. Both with slumped shoulders and sad eyes, “Who’s Tormund?”

 

“Ygritte’s friend.” Jon sounded so defeated as he looked around at all the scattered belongs on the floor. “This is fucking awful.”

 

“What is this man?” Robb wasn’t looking at the belongings on the floor though.

 

Sansa sucked in a huge breath, digging down deep for what was to come. The idea of filtering through a loved one’s things wasn’t exactly appealing at the moment. She vividly remembered pitching Harry’s old golf clubs and fighting with his mother over who got to keep his cashmere sweaters and how her mother in law ended up with his watch. Sansa looked at the CDs and movies littered about and wondered what it was like to break up an entire life with someone who is still alive.

 

Very much living and breathing and still _choosing_ to be apart.

 

“She did it yesterday and now I have to go through and see if I want things. Then she’ll come back, we’ll negotiate in person on what shit I want, and then I guess she leaves.”

 

“I’m sorry.” Robb gulped, “I had no idea.”

 

Jon shook his head and shrugged, “I didn’t say anything. I just…you’re getting married. And this is such a fucking downer.”

 

Sansa bit her lip. She knew the exact feeling.

 

“Well, let’s look.” Sansa got on her knees to start looking through the CDs.

 

“I don’t want any of it.” Jon and Robb remained standing but Sansa shuffled through the discs anyhow. “Believe me. You will. Don’t let her take what is yours.” Sansa picked out the music she knew was his, because she didn’t want Jon to sit around and think about how Ygritte is probably listening to his Porches album. Much like Mrs. Hardyng probably sang along to Sansa’s Michael Bublé albums in her polished white Mercedes.

 

“I don’t want it, Sansa.” Jon’s voice was grim but she still picked out the CDs.

 

Sansa read the back of a Kanye album and looked at Jon, “You or her?”

 

“Her. Those aren’t all mine that you have either.” Jon nodded at the pile.

 

“Then pick them out. Come on Robb, start on the DVDs.” Sansa motioned her hand for them to join her on the ground.

 

And they did. They sat for hours filtering through what was Jon’s and what was trash. They pretended not to notice when Jon got teary and most importantly, they laughed. Robb tried on Ygritte’s scarf and did impressions, Sansa cracked jokes about his movie selections, and Jon stole glances at Sansa and mouthed a 'thanks' on multiple occasions.

 

Sansa had been here, she had done this, and this time the hurt was much more dull.

 

She wondered if Mrs. Hardyng still had Harry’s watch.

 

**xxxxxx**

 

“God, what’s the hold up?” Arya fussed as she scrolled through her BlackBerry.

 

“Wrong phone.” Sansa mumbled, watching her corporate sister fumble from her work cell to personal. Arya pulled out her iPhone in haste, “I don’t know how I mix them up.”

 

“Why do you even need two in the first place? Just use your BlackBerry all the time, wouldn’t that save you the stress?” Bran shrugged as he took a sip of his beer. The crowd roared around them at a home run, but Sansa wasn’t watching the televisions. She scanned the crowds for her older brother and Jon. They’d all decided to meet up one last time before Bran headed back to school.

 

Rickon sipped on his Coke and frowned, “I am so tired of being the youngest.”

 

Arya rolled her eyes, “I wish I had 3 months off of the year.”

 

“And a month off for Christmas.” Bran flashed a smug grin.

 

“How was Jon’s the other day? Mom said he and Ygritte broke up.” Arya scrolled through her messages haphazardly.

 

“It was a lot of stuff.”

 

“Ygritte and Jon broke up?” A deep frown etched itself onto Rickon's face, “Ygritte was really nice.”

 

“Look on the bright side Rick, now she’s single.” Bran blocked Rickon’s punch to the arm and snickered.

 

Arya slowly dropped her phone, “Is he upset?”

 

Loaded question. It’d been three days since Sansa and her brother helped Jon sort through his belongings. Sansa texted him several times but only got short responses once or twice, and when she called him this morning it had gone straight to voicemail. He probably just needed space, but it made Sansa anxious that he wouldn’t at least tell her so.

 

“Duh. They were together for forever, I think he was going to propose to her.” Bran stared up at the TV and hissed when the Pittsburg Pirates struck out. “Dammit.”

 

“Baseball sucks.” Arya sighed, “So do break ups. Ygritte was cool, I wonder if they’ll find their way back to each other.”

 

Sansa sucked on her teeth in disappointment, she was hoping to get more information out of Arya about Ygritte. She had been so tempted to ask Robb about the relationship and who Ygritte was on the ride home, but decided it’d probably just make Robb suspicious of something non-existent.

 

“I didn’t know much about her.” Sansa shrugged.

  

“You never know anything about anyone.” Rickon rolled his eyes, “You’ve always been like that.”

 

“Hey, relax.” Bran snapped, “It’s just Sansa’s world and we’re all only living in it.” His valley girl impression was perfect and Arya smacked his arm with all her might. 

 

“That’s not true.” Sansa tried to sound harsh but it sounded more childish than anything. Sansa worked to swallow the hurt in her throat, but before she or Arya could say anything else, Jon and Robb waltzed up to their table all smiles.

 

“Hey guys, sorry we kept you waiting.” Robb plopped down in between Sansa and Rickon, Jon took the spot across from her and between Bran and Arya.

 

“Someone needs a watch.” Arya made a face and stuck both her phones in her purse. “When is everyone going to be in town again?”

 

It was a question more for everybody else, Sansa watched everyone look to Bran and Jon. Arya was working tirelessly on getting Senior VP at her app company. Robb was at their father’s law firm taking most of the cases while planning the wedding in October. Bran was starting up his senior year of college and waiting to hear back about a couple jobs he'd applied for on campus. Rickon's hockey had just started up and he also had a few college visits planned. Sansa felt that familiar self pity crawling up her spine, the need for wallowing and pity parties with only herself in attendance.

 

She stared at the TVs and pretended to be over Bran’s comment. They all decided on it being necessary to be present for Thanksgiving at the Stark house, that they’d meet up one more time before the wedding, and that they’d all make at least one of Rickon’s tournament games.

 

Sansa sipped silently on her water and watched Arya show Jon a new app her company was working on. Robb talked to Bran and Rickon about the Pirates game and their stats over the season.

 

Did Jon feel sad about Ygritte? Did he miss her at his side, the way Sansa wished Harry were right now? Did he call her at night, just to hear about her day? Did he care about her day?

 

Jon’s stare bore into her and she looked up to see his sad brown eyes, and realized that he knew she was the only one at the table to understand what he felt. That the world was still going, still turning, no matter how sad you felt. All the energy it took to put on a smile and to play the game of moving on with everybody else.

 

Dinner winded down and Bran and Jon were pretty drunk. Jon especially.

 

Everybody paired off, leaving Sansa to drop Arya off at her apartment and drive Bran, Rickon, and herself back to their parents. After the bill was paid and they filed out to the parking lot, Sansa found herself watching Robb lead Jon to their car. The way he held up his strong, stoic friend without so much as batting a lash. She wondered if that was because he was used to it.

 

“Bye!” Arya called out as soon as the men neared Robb's Jeep.

 

“Hey wait, Sansa!” Jon turned his head and Sansa’s heart leaped.

 

They hadn’t said much to one another at dinner. Sansa hadn’t really talked to anybody much in the restaurant, only picking at her chicken wings and sipping on her water.

 

“Yeah?” She walked over to him and Robb.

 

“Here, I, uh, I found this after we went through all my stuff. It was my grandfather's, I think, but I never met him and I've never worn it before. I, um, do you want it?” Jon offered up a yellow gold watch.

 

Harry’s had been a silver Rolex that Sansa had gotten engraved with his initials for their first wedding anniversary. He’d worn it everyday, and to that Mrs. Hardyng insisted that she remembered buying it for him as a college student for a birthday present. At the time Sansa didn’t have enough fight or energy in her to insist on keeping it, and it didn’t hit her until the funeral that she didn’t have the time.

 

And that all she wanted was Harry’s stupid Rolex that she bought for him with his own money.

 

Sansa reached out and let Jon place it in her hand gently. “I never used it. Yellow gold isn’t really my thing.”

 

“You’re much more of a brown leather kind of guy.” Sansa smiled down at the watch.

 

“Yeah.” Jon nodded, his breath hot with alcohol, “Anyways, I wanted to thank you for the other day. I’ll…see you around, yeah?”

 

“Yeah.” Robb nodded, “We’ll help Ygritte move out so you don’t have to.”

  

Sansa’s eyes widened. She would have never, ever offered that.

 

“Yeah right.” Jon tossed his head back to let out some strangled sounding guffaw. Robb rolled his eyes at Sansa and smiled briefly before throwing up his free hand to wave goodbye one more time.

 

“What was that?” Arya asked as soon as Sansa got inside the driver seat of their parent’s SUV.

 

“Nothing. Let’s go home.” Sansa started up the car and bit her lip to hide her smile.

 

Arya was right, _somebody did need a watch_.


	6. Carbs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **mentions of suicidal thoughts. Please be careful reading. If that subject is unsafe for you to read, SKIP THIS CHAPTER.

# Chapter Six: Carbs

* * *

 

 

The starch pages of Sansa’s recently purchased novel flew open as she rolled the window down. God, she needed air. Her car was a stuffy sauna as she drove away from the bookstore. Sansa glanced over at her cell phone with absolutely no notifications and drew in a sharp breath. Not a single text all day.

  
Last night she told herself she wasn't going to annoy him, that she wouldn't be the one to text him first. She'd felt like a real nuisance the past week after the sports bar dinner. It'd been a tough week for Jon, yet he'd still answer her texts about movies, politics, and food. Last night she had asked if he wanted to meet up for beers, but he took two hours to respond no thanks.

  
Rejection was not well suited for Sansa Stark. All night she thought of everything she could've said or done that might have been too much. As she stared at her ceiling she tried to pick apart any reason for Jon to be mad at her. _Was he even mad?_ A few days ago she made some shitty comment about Ygritte being a deserter that Jon didn't really address.

  
Was he still in love with her?

  
She chewed on her lip and glanced at the book beside her. Fine.

 

On an impulse, she caved, and from memory she dialed his number. They hadn't ever really spoken on the phone other than to confirm plans, and for whatever reason Jon’s number had gone unsaved in her inbox for quite some time.

  
“Hello?” He picked up on the second ring.

  
Sansa let out a breath she didn't know she was holding, “Hey, um, what're you doing?”

  
“Just grabbing papers from my office. Class ended a few minutes ago, why? Are you alright?” She could hear the worry rising in his tone.

  
“Yeah sorry, I just got this book and was running errands and I um, wanted to show it to you. See if you've read it?” Sansa made an ugly crazy face at herself in response to how ridiculous she felt she sounded.

  
“Sounds good. I'll be home in about 30 minutes, or I could stop by your house?” Jon sounded distracted and nonchalant.

  
The idea of Jon coming to her parents made her shake her head in panic. Sansa was not in the mood to sit by and listen to Ned talk work with Jon or hear her mother nag on Jon about his upcoming wedding duties. “Yours is fine. I can bring over some food or something?” Sansa failed to imitate Jon’s casual tone. Sansa Stark was anything but casual and laid back.

  
“Just grab some beer if you don't mind. I've got some leftovers at my place we could split. See ya in a bit.” Jon hung up before Sansa had a chance to even ask him what kind of beer he likes.

  
Frazzled, Sansa ran her hand through her tousled hair and blew out a gust of air. She continued driving through town and began to navigate to the closest grocer.

  
Did Jon like stouts? Craft brews? Or was he more of a Budweiser kind of guy? Sansa rushed into the store to pace the alcohol aisles. Maybe a seasonal? But she thinks she remembers seeing him sip on a Heineken bottle once. Or Dos Equis?

  
Sansa reached out to grab a craft brew, deciding that Jon was definitely the craft type. English professor living in the city. There was no way Jon Snow would drink Bud by choice. Her hand froze mid air.

 

Wait.

 

_Was this a date?_

  
Dinner and drinks at his place?

  
No. No, no, no. Sansa’s hand dropped.

 

This was just like hanging out at the café, except minus the coffee and Emily the barista. No reason to panic she tried to remind herself, but it did little to settle her jittery stomach.

  
If Sansa had to drink beer, she drank Michelob Ultra, but really she preferred a cranberry and vodka over anything else. Harry had suggested the beer to her in college, since it was so watery and light, that way she’d still fit in with the other sorority girls at the football games. So she grabbed the box of silver and blue and headed to the register. If Jon wanted something else he could get it himself. She was only going over to show him the book and talk about his classes. Simple, friendly subjects. Subjects that would pair well with Michelob Ultra.

  
As she pulled up to Jon’s town home, Sansa drummed nervously on the steering wheel. She heaved a deep breath while she tore the keys from the ignition. It was just about the book, that was all.

  
But why was she so anxious? Why had she been itching to speak to him all day?

  
Sansa shifted uncomfortably in her seat and looked at herself in the rear view mirror. She wasn't all that exciting. Her hair was down and natural, she’d been too annoyed with the hair dryer this morning to put in any effort. It was only a weekday where she'd been out running errands, so she just wore some jeans and a blue striped shirt. No fuss.

  
At least she had mascara on.

  
But what did it matter?

  
She rolled her eyes at herself and gathered the beer and book to walk up to his house. Jon had texted her that he was home 10 minutes ago, and she'd circled the neighborhood a few times so she wouldn't be too early.

  
It was definitely fall in Winterfell, the fallen brown leaves decorated Jon’s lawn, along with a wreath from her mother that hung on his front door. The air had a bite to it as the sun was setting, and Sansa regretted not grabbing a coat before she had left today.

  
“Hey,” Jon opened the door as soon as she rung the door bell. His hair was neatly pulled back and his wire framed glasses began to slip down his nose when he looked to the beer in her hand. “Thanks for getting beer.” Jon pushed his glasses up and stepped aside for her to walk in.

  
The place was blank. There were no pictures, decorations, or even rugs. His TV was even missing from the wall. Apparently that had belonged to Ygritte too.

  
“I didn't know what to get so…” Sansa trailed off when she saw the lone photograph standing. It was a framed picture of the Starks on the lake vacation they took ages ago. Sansa fondly remembered the pink bikini she wore, it had been her first. Matching neon sunglasses were neatly perched on her head and her twig arm wrapped loosely around a wide eyed and wheel chair free Bra. A chubby infant Rickon grumpily sat in the sand while teenaged and scrawny Robb and Jon stood side by side. Jon’s arm wrapped tightly to Arya and Arya’s head was tossed back in laughter as she looked up at a smirking short haired Jon.

  
  
God, they were all so young.

  
“It's fine, I'll take it.” Jon grabbed the case of beer from her and walked to his kitchen. “It's leftover spaghetti, I hope that's ok.”

  
Sansa had just started this no carb thing the past week after having to squeeze into some jeans, but she couldn't bear to think of Jon's reaction if she told him that. So instead she grinned at him and nodded, “Sounds good to me.”

  
Jon cleared his throat and scratched at his head, “I’ll uh, heat it up.”

  
“Microwave it just for me?” Sansa meant it to sound sarcastic but it was way more flirty and friendly than she intended.

  
Jon blushed almost as hard as she did, but luckily he quickly turned away to grab the food from the fridge. “Call me Emril.” Jon teased while he grabbed all the plates and silently set up the table.

  
The kitchen had no curtains, and from what Sansa could tell, there were about 5 plates, 3 cups, and some mix and matched silverware left. “She took the lot.”

  
Jon nodded sullenly and made no further comment.

  
“Was it weird?” Sansa chewed at her nail, and the weight of his watch slid down her slender right arm. She froze.

  
Shit.

  
She'd meant to take it off in the car. In fact, this morning she had meant to take it off as soon as she'd tried it on. It was hideous. Gaudy and heavy and the type of yellow gold that would've only been acceptable in the 70s.

  
Jon didn't let on that he noticed at all, he only shrugged as he shoved one heaving plate of spaghetti into the microwave and turned to fish another from his barren cabinet. “It wasn't fun.”

  
Sansa grabbed a beer for herself from the counter and eagerly opened it. Needing something to do as to not fall into the potentially awkward silence.

  
Jon spun around to look at her, dusting off his hands like he'd been slaving away. Sansa smiled and tried to think of a joke but Jon’s face was serious. “Did your dad send you here?”

  
Sansa was so caught off guard that she almost choked on her beer. “My Dad?”

  
Jon shifted his weight from foot to foot as the hum of the microwave continued behind him. “I just didn't…I didn't know why you came is all.”

  
Sansa opened her mouth and closed it.

  
“Not that I don't want you here. I just didn't know if he asked you to.” Jon waved his hands around in an attempt to wave off Sansa’s certain upset expression.

  
“Why would he do that?” Sansa crossed her arms, hiding the watch behind her left bicep.

  
“I haven't really talked to him in a few days. Not to be mean. I just don't feel like talking.” The microwave beeped and Sansa nodded.

  
Ned loved nothing more than pep talks and deep conversations with his children. Everything was a life lesson to him. Sansa had sat through many a lecture on boys, parties, and most recently: death.

  
Ned had shut up about Harry months ago when Sansa went full on ape shit. That including screeching at the top of her lungs and kicking over her Dad's home office desk.

  
She cringed at the memory of her Dad’s shocked face and moved to fill glasses with water. Another move to busy herself so she didn't have to fill the silence. 

  
“He talks a lot.” Sansa noted as Jon quietly set the table.

  
“He means well.” Jon tried to defend his father figure. He was always doing that whenever the Stark kids complained about Ned's two cents.

  
“He always does.” Sansa set the glasses of water and plopped herself down across from Jon.

  
His blue dress shirt was completely unbuttoned, baring his white undershirt. Sansa averted her eyes to take in a forkful of carbohydrates. She wondered how much sugar was in the sauce as she chewed on the leftover spaghetti.

  

 

“You don’t like it.” Jon didn’t ask. He covered his mouth as he laughed and Sansa eagerly shook her head, “No! It’s...it’s good!”

 

 

Jon rolled his eyes and pointed to the containers on the counter, “I picked it up two days ago. I’ve already heated it up once before.”

 

 

Sansa scrunched her nose, “I offered to get food! Why are you feeding me old leftovers?”

 

 

Jon shrugged, “I didn't think you would actually come here and stay to eat.” His mouth made a funny frown and he scooped up another huge bite. Sansa paused as she watched him take a sip of the Michelob Ultra she opened for him, and caught his grimace.

 

 

“You don’t like the beer?” Her eyebrow raised accusingly and Jon shot her a grin, “I like it as much as you like the spaghetti.”

 

 

“I’m on a no carb thing.” Sansa poked the pathetically dry noodles with her fork.

 

 

“Then why are you drinking beer?” Jon was almost finished with his plate.

 

 

“You asked for beer, so I brought beer. Plus, I didn’t know about the…whatever this is.” Sansa stabbed her fork in the pile of red muck.

 

 

“Spaghetti Bolognese from Sergio’s.” Jon set his fork down and took another swig from his brown bottle.

 

 

“You don’t have to drink it.” Sansa watched him chug.

 

 

He winked and set the almost empty bottle to the table, “You don’t have to either, miss carb free.”

 

 

Sansa made a face at him and shoveled in a bite, simply out of spite. She chewed on the noodles and flicked him off as he laughed at her. Jon finished his beer and reached across to grab another from the counter.

 

Jon wordlessly opened it and took a short sip, smiling at her in a way that made her stomach feel warm. Sansa stuck her tongue out and Jon rolled his eyes in return. He pointed to her beer and asked if she wanted another, even though there was still plenty left.

 

 

“No thanks." Sansa shook her head, "Hey Jon, I've been thinking of moving out." She'd been thinking about it non-stop for the past few days and wanted to see his reaction.

 

 

Ever since the Stark sibling dinner last week, she’d been hung up on it. “ _Sansa’s world and we’re all just living in it._ ” Yeah well, Bran, now she could move out and make her own world and not have to bother anyone with it.

 

 

“Oh?” Jon snatched her plate from her and began to pick at it.

 

 

She crossed her arms, careful to cover the watch from his view. Sansa scanned his face to see if he’d noticed it.

 

 

It was silly, really. The only reason she had put it on today was because she needed the time. And the yellow gold was so truthfully awful. She just, wanted to try it out, see if it could match anything.

 

 

“Yes, maybe outside of Winterfell.” Sansa took a small sip of her beer.

 

 

“You’re not leaving Winterfell.” Jon sighed in between bites.

 

 

“Why's that?” Sansa glared at him, “Enough with the nasty spaghetti!” She yanked the plate from him, her chest heaving.

 

 

“Because that’s too far. What will Miss Sansa Stark do outside of Winterfell? Work at another Steakhouse and count her carbs and calories?” Jon mimicked and grabbed the plate back.

 

 

“I made a nasty habit of turning to comfort food and I need to stop! And I love pasta but this is just disgusting!” Sansa was pissed. God, he was being unbearable. Why had she even come here in the first place?

 

 

“You need bread. For the past year your parents kept pandering all of us to make sure you ate. That’s why I ate that Chinese food with you that night, because I was scared if I didn’t, you’d wither away.” Jon stared at her while slurping up a noodle.

 

 

“Well, don’t do me or them any more favors. I just don’t want your shitty leftovers.”

 

 

“Then don’t. Drink your beer. I think I have yogurt in the fridge.” Jon nodded behind him and made no motion to get up and grab it for her. Sansa huffed as she kicked the chair back, “You’re being a real ass.”

 

 

“Sorry.” Jon didn’t even turn around to look at her.

 

 

“Where are your stupid spoons?” Sansa rifiled through drawer after drawer, and Jon sighed heavily in annoyance. “Second one from the sink, Jesus.”

 

 

Sansa grabbed herself a spoon and sat across from him again, her peach Yoplait yogurt in hand. Sansa hated peach yogurt.

 

 

“Why did you think my dad sent me?” Sansa ate a nasty spoonful.

 

 

“Because he thinks I’m off the rails. Probably thinks I’m going to kill myself because Ygritte left me.” Jon’s voice didn’t waiver.

 

 

“Are you?” Sansa slowly lowered her spoon.

 

 

“What? Going to kill myself or gone off the rails?” Jon finished Sansa’s plate and shoved it away from himself. She stared at him expectantly, watching to see if his face would give him away.

 

 

“I’m off the rails, certainly. I have my best friend's spoiled, beautiful sister eating shitty leftovers, I’ve cancelled classes twice. I barely sleep and I can't seem to keep a pack of beer in the fridge for more than a day. But no, I don’t want to kill myself.” Jon looked out the small window above his sink and then to Sansa, “Did you ever think about it?”

 

 

Sansa took a giant bite of the yogurt, hoping to never answer that question again. Her therapist had her almost checked in twice.

 

 

“Of course you did. I think I would too, if Ygritte had died.” Jon took a long pull of beer, “But she didn’t. She just chose to leave.”

 

 

Sansa swallowed at the yogurt, her eyes finally meeting Jon’s.

 

 

“Do you still love Harry? How does it work?” Jon dropped his eyes as soon as he said Harry’s name.

 

 

“Yes. I never stopped. I don’t think I ever will.” Sansa set the yogurt down dramatically slow, watching Jon watch her. “Do you still love Ygritte?”

 

 

“Yes. But I don’t know if I just say that out of habit. Maybe even just suggesting that I say it out of habit is worse enough, but it’s hard when somebody hurts you. Because now I don’t only feel love or admiration, I’m hurt. I _hate_ her.” Jon’s eyes burned.

 

 

“I hate Harry too. Sometimes.” Sansa shocked herself at the quiet admission.

 

 

Jon looked at her and then to her right wrist, the gold watch peeking out from her striped shirt. Sansa swallowed but forced herself to not move a muscle. Daring Jon to say something, to do something. _Anything_.

 

 

His dark eyes raked their way up her arm, her shoulder, her neck, her face, to finally look at her. Jon didn’t look like Jon.

 

 

Sansa opened her mouth to say something but only sat silent.

 

 

“I know you hate peach yogurt too. I’ll call for pizza. Or no carbs?” Jon shoved his chair back forcefully, propelling himself to the counter where his phone was laid out.

 

 

“Um, pizza is fine.” Sansa’s voice was still as quiet as when she said she sometimes hated her dead husband.

 

 

In fact, maybe it was most of the time.

 

 

And Jon was right. When somebody hurts you, it becomes impossible to untangle the pain and betrayal from the love and trust. Sansa’s memories of Harry alive and right beside her were fuzzy, but the day she lost him played like a movie in her head every moment of every day.

 

 

“It’ll be here in 15. Where's the book?” Jon tossed his phone back on the counter and looked to her wrist again, “Nice watch.”

 

 

And he walked out of the empty kitchen to his empty living room to grab the stupid book, while Sansa sat breathless staring at his blank fridge.


	7. Don't Talk About It

# Chapter Seven: Don't Talk About It

* * *

 

 

“Before I Fall?” Jon is staring at the book when he enters back into the kitchen. Sansa snaps her attention to his figure lingering in the doorway; “Is this some teen romance book?” Jon practically sneered.

 

 

“I read it when I was a teenager, and sort of. But not really.” Sansa was sharp and defensive. She loved the book and thought of it often. About Claire reliving a certain day as if she were Bill Murray in Groundhog Day. As if she were Sansa Stark.

 

 

Jon flipped through the pages, “When did you read this?”

 

 

“I was thirteen. I found it at the library and read it in a single night.” Maybe it was silly. She probably should’ve suggested some literary masterpiece to try to keep up with what Jon read and had suggested to her. But this book was important to her, and for whatever reason she wanted to share.

 

 

His eyes danced over the pages as he skimmed it, “You read this at thirteen?”

 

 

Sansa nodded.

 

 

“Looks like there’s some pretty heavy stuff in here for a thirteen year old Sansa.” Jon smirked and closed the book quietly. “I’ll read it this week.”

 

 

“I don’t really know if you’ll like it…” Sansa began to doubt herself. Suddenly feeling silly for showing up here to give him a book she read as a child while wearing his watch.

 

 

_Why hadn’t he said anything about it?_

 

 

“I will. I’ll read it too.” Jon remained standing after setting the book onto the kitchen table.

 

 

“I better get going.” Sansa pretended to look at the time above his oven and Jon made a face. “But I ordered the pizza.”

 

 

“Oh, right.” Sansa swallowed. The weight of her right wrist pulling her under quickly, she was surely about to drown in humiliation.

 

 

“You don’t have to stay.” Jon offered her an out. Sansa read his face for any inkling on what he wanted her to do.

 

 

“I know that.” Sansa licked her bottom lip and took another sip of beer. Jon shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot and cleared his throat, “The wedding is coming up.”

 

 

“It is.” Sansa nodded numbly. The Robb and Talisa wedding was all anybody talked about lately. She was about to rip her ears off of her head if she had to hear Robb complaining to her one more time about all the stress he was under.

 

 

“Are you excited?” It sounded foreign coming from Jon’s mouth. Sansa then realized he was making small talk. Jon Snow was _nervous_.

 

 

“No. Are you?”

 

 

“No.” Jon stepped forward and took his beer.

 

“Do you think you would’ve married Ygritte?” Sansa blurted out before she could even stop herself. The watch baring hand reached up to cover her mouth in shock, and Jon stared at it gleaming on her wrist.

 

 

“Probably.”

 

 

What an indifferent and unappealing answer. Sansa hadn’t known what to expect when she asked that, but surely he would’ve given a better answer had she not just ambushed him.

 

 

Sansa nodded just as the doorbell rang, she swore she saw him take a sigh of relief as he left the kitchen once again.

 

 

Ygritte probably would’ve wanted a small wedding and Jon probably didn’t want one at all. She wondered if Jon would’ve written his own vows and if Ygritte would wear a garter beneath her dress. Or wear a wedding dress at all for that matter.

 

 

Harry had his vows to Sansa written by a poet, and he had taken Sansa’s garter off with his teeth, much to her horror. She could still see the pink that danced on her mother’s cheeks.

 

 

Jon would make a handsome groom.

 

 

**xxxxx**

 

 

Cinnamon candles warmed the Stark Estate. Sansa was scrolling through Zillow and writing down different realtors and neighborhoods to check out. Did she want a house? An apartment? Or maybe a town home like Jon’s?

 

 

Well not like Jon’s exactly. The awful green shutters had to go.

 

 

She furrowed her brow and adjusted herself on the stiff living room sofa. Cat was forcing her to attend a social function later for information on social chairs of charities around the community. Catelyn Stark’s playground in other words.

 

 

It was a cold Thursday mid-September, and about a week after she had scarfed down three pieces of pizza at Jon’s and then rushed home to lay in bed and pick apart the entire evening. Would Jon have really married Ygritte?

 

 

They didn’t bring her up any more after Jon had brought the pizza back into the kitchen. Only safe subjects like small talk about the wedding, Arya’s work schedule, and Rickon’s hockey season. She was also assigned to go pick her little brother up from practice in an hour. She wasn’t even married to a socialite anymore, yet here she was: picking out a home, running errands, and trying to imagine what she would wear tonight to the social.

 

 

Sansa’s feet were frozen and she was bored of looking at places for sale. She wanted to get Arya’s opinion before making any other moves, and she wasn’t too sure how her parents would take the news either. They’d really gotten used to having Sansa back around. And admittedly, so had Sansa.

 

 

Slowly she stretched her aching back and arms, then tossed her laptop gently beside her on the next couch cushion. Sansa probably should be job searching, but that could be dealt with later. If at all.

 

 

Her breath got stuck in her throat when she remembered the numbers on the paper she was given. The life insurance, the will, and all the assets from Harold Hardyng’s bank account.

 

 

“Sansa! Do you know where your mother is?” Ned’s voice called from the kitchen. A smile rose to her face, her dad had started working from home more often, and she liked to think it could be partially attributed to her redoing his office space. Sansa hopped up and headed her Dad’s way to see what he was up to.

 

 

When she came into the kitchen, she was shocked to see none other than Jon Snow himself. Standing with Robb and Ned while they stared at something on Ned’s phone.

 

 

“Hey,” Sansa was embarrassed. Her hair was in an awful messy braid, her baggiest sweatpants, and a too small t-shirt from high school that showed about an inch of her stomach.

 

 

“Hey hobo.” Robb snickered, “When was the last time you showered?”

 

 

He almost flinched when Ned shot him a look; they were still all trying to be sensitive towards her. At least when they remembered too.

 

 

“Last night asswipe.” Sansa spotted a large jug of apple cider and grinned, “Is that from Godswood Farms?”

 

 

“Yeah, your mom got it. I was wondering where she went so I could thank her. “ Ned nodded at the jug on the counter, “You can have some if you’d like.”

 

 

“I wasn’t allowed any.” Robb scowled and Ned rolled his eyes.

 

 

“I just didn’t want you to sneak it out of here.” Ned shoved his phone in his pocket and waved Robb away. Sansa grabbed some mugs from the cabinet without asking. Everybody loved the home brewed apple cider; it was so warm and sweet, just right for a cold autumn day like today.

 

 

“What’s your class tonight?” Robb asked Jon. He hadn’t spoken a word since Sansa entered the kitchen. They hadn’t spoken since she left his house last week.

 

 

“Creative writing. I actually have to get going here in a few.” Jon’s hair was down but neat, in the only way his wild curls could be. He was wearing his usual work outfit of a dress shirt and khakis. He chewed gently on what could only be spearmint gum, Jon was absolutely obsessed and reeked of it every single day.

 

 

“Is Ygritte still teaching?” Robb asked nonchalantly and walked over to help Sansa in passing out the glasses of cider. Sansa watched him carefully; she had no idea that Ygritte was teaching.

 

 

“She is.” Ned’s voice had such a harsh bite that it spoke for itself. _Drop it, leave him be, and don’t talk about it anymore_.

 

 

“I didn’t know Ygritte was teaching at Winterfell.” Sansa went on anyways, earning two death glares from both Robb and Ned.

 

 

“She does.” Jon nodded curtly.

 

 

“What does she teach?” Sansa popped her mug into the microwave to heat up.

 

 

“Ew, don’t microwave it you animal.” Robb grumbled.

 

 

“Biology.” Jon took two polite sips of the cold cider he poured himself, and set it down on the very same kitchen island where they had eaten Chinese together. Sansa stared at the cup and listened to her Dad try to change the subject to a less intense one.

 

 

“Do you see her on campus?” The microwave beeped and Robb let out a sigh in disgust, “You are so nasty Sansa. You really can’t just heat it up in a pot?”

 

 

“Every day.” Jon jingled his keys, “Well, I’ll see you all tomorrow night for the rehearsal dinner.”

 

 

“Don’t forget, it’s black tie.” Robb pointed at his own red tie around his neck and pretended to hang himself with it.

 

 

Jon rolled his eyes as he turned to leave, “How could I forget. Bye!” He exited out the sliding doors and down the back porch steps.

 

 

“Jesus San, what’d you grill him for?” Robb scolded and Ned shook his head.

 

 

“He’s sensitive about it all Sansa. You should be more empathetic about it.” Ned grabbed a pot from under a cabinet. “And Robb you need to head back into the office. Everyone there is waiting for the announcement.”

 

 

“Announcement?” Sansa froze from reaching for her microwaved mug and looked over her shoulder to her guilty family. Robb and Ned exchanged a look.

 

 

“We’ll explain later San. Mom was going to talk to you about it tonight at the dinner.” Robb waved her away and started up the flame to put the pot on top.

 

 

“Tell me what?” Sansa looked between the two Stark men and Ned smiled, “Your brother is moving on up and over me to run the company.”

 

 

“You’re passing the company on?” Sansa could’ve passed out right there.

 

 

“It’s just for transition sake. Your brother and I are both getting older and I need a break. Cat misses me.” Ned said her mom’s name with such a fondness that her heart swelled twice the size.

 

 

Sansa nodded and made a face at Robb, “I guess you’ll do alright.”

 

 

“Here’s hoping.” Robb poured in the apple cider, then reached over to get Sansa’s mug for her. “Do you still hang out with Jon?”

 

 

“Not really.” It was true. And from the way he just acted she thinks she might’ve really pushed him this time.

 

 

Robb shrugged, “He told me that you weren’t as unbearable as you were five years ago.”

 

 

Sansa shot daggers at him, “Well, tell him thanks for me.”

 

 

“Will do.” Robb began to whistle and Sansa ignored her Dad’s apologetic face as she left the kitchen with her perfectly fine-microwaved apple cider.

 

 

**xxxxx**

 

 

Later that night and after the stupid dinner, Sansa is back on the couch, half dozing and half watching Chopped. Every time she’s about to give into sleep, she over hears a crazy risk a chef is about to take and has to spring her eyes open to check out the chef’s vinaigrette.

 

 

“I need to go to bed,” She mumbles to herself when she looks at the time on the ugly gaudy watch resting on the coffee table beside her. Sansa had left it there ever since dinner at Jon’s. No one had even asked about it, and she wondered if her family knew who’s it was.

 

 

It was almost 1 AM and her phone buzzed underneath the couch. “There you are!” Sansa reached below and stretched and strained until finally pulling up her cell.

 

 

Jon: _Are you awake?_

 

 

 

Sansa’s heart began to pound in her chest as she quickly responded.

 

 

 

 

Sansa: _Yes_

 

Jon: _I’m outside. Disarm the security system_

 

Sansa: _Bossy bossy_

 

 

 

A giddy giggle escaped her lips and she had to fight a squeal as she ran through the living room, hallways, and all the way through the foyer, to the dining hall where she typed in the code. Then she dashed to put on some slippers and threw on her father’s oversized coat to wait on the front porch steps.

 

 

It was well lit outside, and Jon’s car was parked behind her own. Jon was wearing a beat up Led Zeppelin shirt and plaid pajama pants, Sansa smiled at him as he walked up the driveway.

 

 

“What are you doing here?” Sansa crossed her arms, Ned’s jacket going well past her hands. She felt childlike in the coat that hung so loose while meeting up with a boy as her parents slept soundly inside her home.

 

 

But it was only Jon Snow.

 

 

“I couldn’t sleep so I went for a drive to listen to music after I finished the book.” Jon remained at the bottom of the steps to the front porch, looking up to her.

 

 

“What’d you think?” Sansa chewed her lip nervously.

 

 

“It was so easy to read, the story was great, and the characters were well written. That was a great book to have read at thirteen.” Jon nodded and looked at his shoes, “Thanks for letting me borrow it.”

 

 

“You’re welcome. I mean you’ve let me borrow so many. I just wanted to return the favor.” Sansa lowered herself to sit on the top step and patted the spot beside her, “Just like on the back porch. Minus the mental breakdown.”

 

 

Jon’s face was sullen and almost sunken in as he pulled himself up the steps and next to her.

 

 

“Unless it’s your turn?” Sansa suggested playfully as she tugged at her t-shirt.

 

 

“Maybe that’s what this is.” Jon ran a hand through his wild locks and squeezed his eyes tight. “Don’t ask me about Ygritte in front of anyone again.”

 

 

Sansa didn’t say a word, waiting for him to explain more. When he didn’t, she nodded silently.

 

 

“I don’t want it to be a topic of conversation right now. Right now is my time where I want everyone to talk to me about anything but that.” Jon nodded as he spoke the words, like he had practiced them all the way over.

 

 

“Is that why you came here?” Sansa’s heart fell and her shoulders sagged at her question. Had he lied about liking the book? If only she had kept her stupid, nosy, mouth shut.

 

 

“No.” Jon shook his head and looked at her. Really looked at her. Sansa fidgeted under his gaze and looked away, “I came here because I wanted to tell you I read the book and liked it. I wanted to ask you if you’d sit next to me at the rehearsal dinner tomorrow. Well, technically, tonight.”

 

 

Sansa snapped her head to look at him, a funny feeling pooling in her stomach. A little smile spread across her face and she nodded again. “Sure.”

 

 

“Okay.” Jon sprung up and dusted himself off. “I’ll see you later.” And with that he hopped down the steps he had hopped down so many times, but never before had Sansa really watched him. Sansa never noticed the way Jon messed with his hair or how he furrowed his eyebrows any time a serious thought crossed his mind. Or how often he thought so seriously.

 

 

As Jon backed out of her parents drive way, Sansa put a finger on the feeling in her stomach.

 

 

Guilt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why do you think Jon ended up at the Starks that night? Do you think Sansa should feel guilty?


	8. Rehearsal Dinner

# Chapter Eight: Rehearsal Dinner

* * *

 

 

The extravagant dinner was in full swing, music, laughter, and delicious foods filled the room. Bubbling champagne filled Sansa’s stomach, drowning out all her self-doubt and guilt for switching her and Arya’s nameplates so that Jon could be beside her. Sansa was deep in conversation with Bran about Westworld, arguing back and forth about the logistics of philosophy and what it meant to be conscious. Bran took a dig at her for her library filing degree and she was about to knock him off his high horse when felt a harsh pull on her elbow. 

 

“What the-“ She looked up to a furious Robb staring down at her. 

 

“Have you seen him?” Robb hissed. 

 

“Who?” Bran's eyes scanned around the packed reception room. 

 

“Jon Snow. We're about to get seated and he has to do a speech.” Robb and Sansa then joined in on glancing around the room. Jon had texted her this morning to tell her he'd meet her at the dinner, but it was well into the hors d'oeuvres and cocktails without a sighting. 

 

“I haven't seen him. Have you talked to him today?” Sansa looked at an anxious Robb. Now was not the time, if any, to fuck with his patience. He was up to his eyeballs in stress and socializing, and all he wanted was his best friend's support. 

 

“No!” Robb sighed and flattened his hair, “Tell me if you see him _. Please_.” Right before he dashed away, he grabbed Sansa’s last bit of champagne and drained it. 

 

Sansa and Bran exchanged a look. “I haven't seen him at all tonight. He told Arya he'd bring me my Benchwarmers DVD.” 

 

“I'm not sure.” Sansa shrugged and snagged another glass off of a passing caterer’s tray.

 

“What is with you two anyways? I don't think I've ever seen you say more than three words to each other until lately.” 

 

Sansa scowled, “You’re not even here. How would you know anything about it Mr. Know-It-All?” 

 

“Mom just told me is all. She picked me up from school and told me all about the caterers, the colors, the food, and how you guys are friends.” Bran shrugged, “What's up anyways? You quit the steakhouse?” 

 

Sansa nodded and looked around the room to shoot her mom a glare, but she couldn't find her anywhere. “I did.” 

 

“Are you going to get another interior job?” Bran voice was gentle and suggestive while still being direct. Something only he could manage. She swallowed and slowly nodded, “Yeah that'd be a good idea.”

 

“Well, I could get you a hook up. One of my art professors from last semester has a daughter that is into that interior stuff. I think you might know her actually.” Bran smiled brightly. 

 

“That'd be-“ Sansa cut herself off when a tidy Jon stepped into the room. He was in his suit, a black tie tight around his neck, and his hair combed back neatly. “Jon’s here.” She moved to go find Robb.

 

“He’s trashed,” Bran sucked in a breath, “Oh Christ. Robb and Mom are not going to be happy about this.” 

 

“Trashed?” Sansa echoed him as she stared off at him bewildered. Bran shook his head, “We need to find Arya. She's a good buffer for him because Mom and Robb wouldn't want to confront him in front of Arya.” 

 

“Right.” Sansa nodded as if she knew what he was getting on about. 

 

Bran sighed, “God, okay, you go find Arya and I'll go get Jon. Meet up outside and we’ll play it off like we've just had shots.” 

 

“But Robb told us-“ 

 

“Go!” Bran hurriedly shoved at her arm before turning his wheelchair to push through the crowd and grab Jon. Sansa narrowed her eyes at him but when she went to find her little sister, realized the reason for Bran’s urgency and rudeness. Robb Stark was headed her way and headed fast. 

 

But Sansa was an expert at ghosting during social events. A skill that any grieving person learns to master when being reintroduced to socializing. So Sansa escaped with ease and melted into the crowd to find her little sister. Arya really pulled an Arya and wore a shiny black suit and tie with her neat bob slicked back. Only her little sister could have both the balls and the beauty to pull it off. 

 

Their mother had been perfectly polite when seeing Arya, but no Stark kid missed the glint in Cat’s eyes. Arya was going to get it later for making such a statement at her brother’s rehearsal dinner. Sansa popped up behind her sister chatting with old childhood friends and urgently tapped her shoulder. 

 

Arya spun on the heel of her dress shoe and smirked, “You really are our mother’s daughter.” 

 

Sansa was wearing an emerald chiffon gown that practically danced on her body. It’s low back and strappy look made her look thin and curvy all at the same time. Harry had gotten it for her to wear to one of his banquets.

 

 

Sansa stuck her tongue out, “I can only imagine what mother had to say to you.” 

 

“I think we all know.” Arya snickered to the girls standing by. 

 

“Hey, so sorry about your loss Sansa.” The one short girl in a red dress’ glassy eyes were gloomy as she spoke her condolences.

 

The other two girls joined in, leaving Sansa speechless. 

 

She'd put up her emotional shields before coming tonight. But perhaps wedding festivities had not been the place to test if Sansa was ready to be reintroduced to all this socialite crap. The dull ache by her side became a piercing one as she looked down to her wedding band still glistening on her ring finger. Sansa swallowed and stared back at them. “We’ll see you later. I'll text you.” Arya waved politely and pulled Sansa away. 

 

“Thank you.” 

 

“Yeah well, I couldn't have very well left you hanging there.” Arya huffed. 

 

“Jon’s drunk.” Sansa sighed and watched for Arya’s reaction. Her face squished up just like Sansa knew it would, all anger and annoyance, just like a shaken up Coke bottle ready to explode. 

 

“Mom is going to flip! Does he have a death wish?!” Arya patted her gelled hair to cool herself off and Sansa kept looking at her sister. 

 

“Does Jon…have a drinking problem?” She felt stupid for asking it out loud but Arya nodded along as she asked it. 

 

“He's a high functioning drinker I guess, that's for sure. It’s easy to tell once you put a finger on why he is the way that he is.” Arya looked around for him. 

 

“What's that?” Curiosity was going to kill her cat. 

 

“Sober Jon minds his business and stays quiet. But when he’s had a few he is very blunt and direct. He’ll ask questions or tell you things like it is. It's honestly not so bad.” Arya shrugged and shoved her hands in her pockets, “Let's go find him, yeah?” 

 

What Arya had just described was how pretty much every single conversation went on between her and Jon. Had he been plastered every time they had talked? It sliced her heart like she didn't know it could, it felt like everything was almost fake. Like it was all a lie that she just uncovered. 

 

“Sansa! Arya!” Robb’s voice came from behind them. 

 

Her eyes widened, “Quick! Outside! Bran has him out there and we're supposed to act like we've all taken shots when we walk in.” 

 

Arya looped her arm in Sansa’s and they shoved through the party to get outside of the fancy restaurant. 

 

Jon was seated on the curb around the flowerbed and sidewalk, facing the girls as they walked into the cold of night. Bran's arms were crossed and his face grim as he looked between a drunken Jon and his sisters. 

 

“A suit?” Jon tossed his head back in laughter, a cigarette dangled between his fingers, “You’re a funny kid.” 

 

“You're drunk.” Arya stepped over and took the cigarette from him, smiling before taking a puff. Jon laughed and looked to Bran, “Did you guys come out here to save me?” 

 

“I don't think you really want to fuck with my brother or my mom right now. She's already pissy.” Arya held her arms out and motioned to her suit. 

 

“It's very well tailored.” Jon reached up and snagged his cigarette back. 

 

“Okay. Let's head back in. Remember, we all just took shots.” Bran fiddled with his controller on his chair and held a hand out for Jon to grasp. He wobbled but never fell as he rose to his feet on his own. Jon waved Bran’s hand away and nodded thanks anyways. 

 

The four of them silently turned to head back into the potential war zone. Jon came right up behind Sansa and whispered, “You look nice.” Whiskey and spearmint filled her nostrils and she ignored his words to keep the world from spinning. 

 

All her anger threatened to spill over but the four of them froze when Catelyn Stark loomed in the doorway to the cocktail area, arms crossed and hard eyes. “Where have you been? We're about to sit for dinner! You missed cocktails Jon!” 

 

“No he didn't.” Arya whispered under her breath. Jon gave her a swift jab to the ribs with his elbow. 

 

“Sorry Mom, we just took some quick shots.” Bran smiled and poked at Cat’s side. She fought it but gave a little smile, “Alright, enough, get in everybody. And Arya smile in pictures please!” As the kids filed in one by one, Cat touched a hand to their shoulders, but Sansa didn’t miss the way Cat’s fingers clawed into Jon’s shoulder. “Where have you been?”

 

“I was with Bran.” Sansa squeezed her eyes shut at Jon’s lie.

 

“Is your speech set?” Cat was already annoyed and hanging on by a thread. Jon whispered something back but Sansa became caught up in the sight of Talisa dashing towards her. Talisa was an absolute bohemian goddess, with her brunette waves tousled and pinned in all the right places. She didn’t need a lick of make up, but she wore a little anyways, and her dark maroon lips had broken into a large smile as she ran up, “Sansa, where is-“

 

Sansa pointed to Jon standing by her mom, “Jon’s here.”

 

Talisa chewed on her lips for a moment before looking back to Sansa, “Is he drunk?”

 

Did everyone know?

 

_Sansa’s world and we’re all just living in it._

 

Rickon’s point of her never noticing a thing that didn’t involve her rang in her thoughts, just as Bran’s words burned through her memory to sting her all over again. 

 

“How should I know?” Sansa’s voice was tart and took Talisa aback.

 

“Are you alright?” Talisa lay a warm, comforting hand on Sansa’s forearm, “You look so beautiful tonight. Thank you for all your help, by the way.”

 

“Thank you and you’re welcome.” Sansa needed to relax or this was going to be a very, very long night.

 

“Jon!” Talisa cheered and wrapped her arms around him in a hug, “I’m so glad you made it.” It wasn’t even a dig, just an earnest admission. Talisa was so kind and laid back and everything Sansa wasn’t.

 

Did she know Ygritte?

 

“Hey Talisa.” Jon gave her a small half-hearted hug in return, “Is it dinner time?”

 

“Yes!” Talisa turned to the crowd and clapped her hands above her head, the rumbling roar of talk and laughter immediately halted as she raised her hand to get their attention, “Everyone pass through the doorway over there, by the right, and there is a long table. Please sit at your assigned seat and enjoy your meal!”

 

There had to be at least 40 people at this insane “rehearsal dinner.” Talisa’s family had rented the entire place out and it was incredibly over the top and completely perfect. Everything was decorated in burnt orange and green, monograms, and wedding doo-dads. Talisa really killed this, with and without Sansa’s help. Catelyn Stark had played a big part also. Sansa recognized her mom’s neat script on the name card before her.

 

Jon was already seated with a bottle of beer behind his plate. He smiled stupidly up at Sansa and patted the seat. “Come on, Sansa Stark.”

 

“Hardyng.” Sansa corrected automatically and yanked her seat out. Jon watched her pull herself closer to the table and furrowed his eyebrows, “Yikes,”

 

“You’re late.” Sansa avoided eye contact by watching everybody find his or her seats.

 

“I’m here.”

 

“You’re drunk.” Sansa fiddled with her dress.

 

Jon’s laugh had this harsh edge to it, “I always am.”

 

“Hey guys! If it isn’t the man of the hour.” Robb slapped Jon’s back as he sat next to his best friend, “Almost done with this shit.”

 

“Yeah man, I don’t know how you do it.” Jon raised his beer up to clank against Robb’s.

 

“How much have you had?” Sansa hissed.

 

Jon completely ignored her and leaned over to say something to Talisa. Ned kicked Sansa from underneath the table and gave her a heated warning look. Sansa glared back at him and he shook his head violently, “Not here. Mom will throw a fit and we’ll all hear about it for years.”

 

She chewed on her cheek and shut her mouth. Her dad was right. Catelyn Stark was not to be fucked with in the public eye and Arya and Jon had already pushed her buttons enough for Sansa to be playing with fire. The food was being served while Sansa turned to talk to Arya beside her. Her back completely facing Jon and Arya went on to tell Sansa all about the latest news at her work.

 

“You rock Arya.” Sansa nodded along to her sister’s accomplishments and Arya grinned proudly, “I really do.”

 

Sansa laughed this empty laugh and wondered whom Jon was talking to. His proximity was driving her mad. “Do you know anything about Ygritte and Jon?”

 

Arya’s expression changed immediately, her eyes darkened, and she shrugged, “Barely anything. Why?”

 

“Jon won’t talk about it and Robb gets mad when I ask.” Sansa tried to sound nonchalant, but she had been so nervous to ask Arya for so long, and she watched Arya see right through her act and silently judge her for it.

 

“I think he kissed someone else. They fought a lot; I know that much, but if you heard him talk about her, he really, really loved her. I think.” Arya popped a baked carrot in her mouth, “I’m only making assumptions though. Jon didn’t have to tell me he loved her, I could just kind of tell. _Why_?”

 

“Oh. No reason.” Sansa chewed on her salmon and nodded, “I only saw her at the New Years party after…” She couldn’t finish the sentence right now.

 

“Yeah. I know.” Arya sipped her wine and quickly changed subjects to Rickon’s hockey. Which Rickon and Bran happily jumped in on. Sansa thanked the stars that the seating chart panned out the way she wanted. All the Starks clumped together. Sansa wouldn’t have been able to stomach tonight with just Jon by her side.

  

“Hey.” Jon was gruff behind her, and Sansa looked over her shoulder at him, “What?”

 

“Are you mad at me?” Jon looked bothered.

 

And so was Sansa.

 

“What do you think?”

 

“You shouldn’t be.”

 

“Why’s that?” Sansa spun to face him now, watching his eyes practically dance.

 

“I’m a young bachelor and I’m allowed to show up drunk to rehearsal dinners.” Jon waved his beer bottle to point around the room.

 

“Okay.” Sansa threatened to turn away again and Jon grabbed her arm. “Don’t be angry.”

 

“Have you been drunk every time we’ve hung out?” Sansa accused and Jon’s hand immediately left her arm. His silence spoke the words for him. She scoffed and shook her head.

 

“Hey man, speech time.” Robb tapped Jon’s shoulder. Jon slammed his beer down and rose to his feet. It was a bold enough action to get every one to settle down and focus on the only person standing in the room. 

 

“Hey everyone, clearly we’re all here for the same reason. Or you're crashing for the free food.” Jon smirked as the guests chuckled, “I’ll make this short so nobody falls asleep.” He rubbed his hands together and smiled, a real bright smile; that almost made Sansa want to return it. “Robb Stark is my best friend and my brother. Growing up as an only child, my Dad once told me that since I wasn't given any siblings, I got to pick my own. Luckily this kid was in my first grade class, and the Starks have been my family ever since.” 

 

Jon leaned on her chair with his left hand while his right hand clasped Robb’s shoulder. His hands were shaking but his voice wasn't. For so long he'd been so terrified of speaking in front of others, but teaching must have really helped him overcome that fear. 

 

“Talisa, you are one brave and lucky girl. Robb is the most stubborn, funny, and kind man I know. I'm lucky to call him my friend. And in two days, I'll be lucky enough to call you my sister too.” Jon squeezed Robb’s shoulder and smiled at Talisa. “Cheers!” He rose up his beer and everyone followed suit. 

 

Sansa’s eyes pricked with tears as she raised her wine up to clink glasses with her family members. The speech was sweet and direct. Robb had tears in his eyes and Catelyn and Ned were currently wiping at their own faces. 

 

Jon sat again after the clapping stopped and leaned over to Sansa, “See, it went fine. I can handle myself, mother.” 

 

“You still smell. Your hands shook the entire time.” Sansa accused. 

 

“It's nerve wracking to speak in front of this many people about something so personal. Don't you remember your own wedding?” Jon voice was much too loud over the music and other quiet conversations. The crowd went silent and Sansa fought back the tears that had been waiting since his speech. 

 

“Jon.” Robb hissed. 

 

“It's an emotional and nerve wracking experience, getting married.” Jon's voice softened with regret, “I didn't mean to raise my voice.” 

 

Sansa sniffled and cleared her throat. 

 

“Do _not_ leave the table.” Catelyn demanded from across the table, silently begging her daughter not to make a scene. Sansa made eye contact with her mother, who looked around at everyone who was just beginning to look away from Sansa and Jon’s exchange. 

 

“You're being a dick.” Sansa took a sip of her wine and Jon mimicked her by sipping his own beer. 

 

“I'm not trying to. I didn't come here to get in a fight with another girl.” Jon licked at his lips. 

 

 

“You saw Ygritte?” Sansa’s tone dropped. 

 

Jon nodded curtly, “Yes.” 

 

“Hey, are you coming stag to the wedding tomorrow?” Talisa leaned over Robb, completely oblivious to the almost scene that had just happened, and looked at Jon expectantly. 

 

“No.” Jon turned to look at Sansa. 

 

“Jon…” Robb warned. 

 

“Ygritte is coming.” Jon supplied a reason for Robb’s attitude. Talisa opened her mouth and closed it, then nodded and visibly decided to ignore this potential mess and turned to say something to her brother.

 

“Ygritte is _coming_?” Sansa felt like she was going to scream. 

 

“That was why I saw her today.” Jon stared down at his bottle. 

 

“To ask her to be your date?” 

  

“To get her to move back in. To ask her to still be my date, she’s been my date this entire time.” Jon slid the empty beer to the middle of the table. 

 

“Great.” Sansa slid her seat back and quickly escaped the buzzing room. A storm raged in her mind. 

 

Her and Harry’s wedding. Jon bringing Ygritte. 

 

The drinking. 

 

Was it seriously there the whole time? 

 

_Sansa’s world and we're all just living in it._

 

Sansa gulped at the fresh air as soon as she burst outside. And when she finally caught her breath, she let the sobs wrack her bones, and the tears course down her cheeks. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jon, Jon, Jon.  
> I'm excited to write Ygritte! Please let me know what you guys thought of this chapter and what you want to happen/what you see coming next!!


	9. Car Talks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you Pascal! And thank you to everyone for your reviews.

# Chapter Nine: Car Talks

* * *

 

Moments after her initial sobbing began; her siblings were by her side. All Sansa wanted was to go home, but she didn’t even know if being home alone was what she wanted either. After they all knowingly stared at one another for a minute, Rickon suggested they all pop a squat and take a breather from the party.

 

Mascara caked her porcelain cheeks even as she wiped tirelessly at them, hoping to hide her pain from the random strangers and family friends filtering in and out of the restaurant. Together all the Starks sat practically intertwined along the damp curb outside the front entrance. Arya's arm was wrapped tightly around Sansa's waist, clutching her close to her side. Robb's curly head rested on her left shoulder with Rickon right beside him; his slender arm wrapped loosely around his big brother's shoulders. Bran's chair sat facing all of them and Rickon had taken a bit too much joy from flicking off every car that drove up and tried to navigate around him blocking the road. 

 

“You’re a good sister.” Robb lifted his head up and chastely kissed her shoulder. It was probably the most endearing thing that he’d done since they were children. “All of your help means a lot to Talisa and I.”

 

“Jon is a real ass.” Arya huffed on the other side of her.

 

“He is.” Rickon asserted his statement with a brisk nod. They all looked at him in brief disbelief. Ever since Rickon was a baby he had only ever loved and adored Jon Snow. He talked about him like he hung the very stars in the sky.

 

“I didn’t know about the drinking. I don't know how I didn't know.” Sansa swallowed the thickness building in her throat. 

 

Robb took a sharp inhale as he sat up a bit straighter, "That's our fault, really. We all thought it'd be better for you if you were oblivious."

 

Arya squeezed Sansa as she felt her starting to melt away from her grasp, "We didn't want to kick you while you were down, San."

 

"There was a baby." Robb looked at Sansa with misty eyes, "When Ygritte lost it, it...it obviously didn't go so well. There's a lot to it. There has been a lot of shitty things going on in Jon's life. I think he didn't tell you because he didn't want you to talk to him like we were."

 

"Like you all talk to me." Sansa replied softly. Robb nodded solemnly and gave her knee a gentle squeeze, "I hope you're not angry with us."

 

Maybe she should have been, but it was true that the weight of that news would've crushed Sansa months ago. It was awful enough hearing it now. So after silently weighing her words, she decided to just lay her head onto Robb's shoulder this time around. Words wouldn't do this situation any justice. She wasn't angry with them, but she was still upset over it all. It hurt.

 

“Ygritte was pregnant?” Bran’s eyes were wide as saucers. Selfishly, there was a bit of comfort in the fact that she wasn't the only one left out. 

 

“Wow.” Rickon’s voice was barely above a whisper. So quiet it threatened to disappear into the night air.

 

“It was…hard. He doesn’t want to talk about it.” Robb wrapped an arm around Rickon then, “This hasn’t been a very happy time for the Stark family. It's stupid that I even thought to complain about my wedding with everything else going on."

 

“At least you’re getting married.” Sansa lifted her head from his shoulder and tried to smile, “Your wedding will be a nice change.”

 

“Talisa really is great Robb.” Arya added. The kids all exchanged meaningful looks and then Bran started to lighten the mood with talk about Talisa’s parents and her wild grandfather. Rickon joked about some lady’s dress and Robb mimicked their Mom’s face when she saw Arya’s suit. Everybody lost it when Arya fiddled with her bowtie proudly.

 

Sansa pushed her tongue to her cheek and thought about tonight and the past year. All the puzzle pieces that made up her and Jon's friendship began to fall into place. The meet ups, mood swings, and shared silence. There was almost this magnetic pull between them due to his unspoken grief. He had obviously found quiet comfort in being with someone who had also lost someone they loved.

 

Jon had wanted to be with someone who understood grief without having to talk about it.

 

“Hey, um, Sansa, can I talk to you for a second?”

 

 _Speak of the devil_.

 

“I don’t think so man. Why don’t you head back inside and I’ll talk to you later.” Robb didn’t even look at him. But Sansa did.

 

His eyes were red rimmed and his face sunken in, much like it had been last night on her front porch steps. When he had first arrived to the party he had looked so well put together, handsome even, but the rumpled man before them was merely a shadow of the one they all knew.

 

“Go inside Jon.” Arya dismissed him firmly.

 

Rickon and Bran just stared at their shoes, but all Sansa saw was Jon staring back at her with those sad, serious eyes. “Let me drive you home.” Sansa suggested as she rose to her feet.

 

“Sansa, I think Jon already has a ride.” Robb hesitantly took his arm away from her shoulder to look at her.

 

“He needs a ride.” Sansa motioned to him.

 

“Dad will give him one.” Arya insisted but Sansa was already pulling herself from her sister's grasp to stand up on her bare feet. Her arms reached behind her to grab her heels and purse, and she was standing in front of Jon in one fluid movement.

 

“I’ll take him back.” Sansa turned to Arya, “Are you sleeping at Mom and Dad’s?”

 

“We all are. Except Robb.” Bran interjected with his car keys.

 

“I’ll text you guys and one of you can pick me up?” Sansa looked to all of their faces, and all of them perked up, finally feeling useful to her.

 

“Yeah! I’ll leave my phone on.” Rickon waved it around and Robb held his up also, “I can get you too, even if I gotta sneak out of here early. All of us are here for you.” The double meaning in his words almost made her feel like crying all over again.

 

“We’re all sticking together.” Arya looked at the two of them and Robb stood up, “Okay, okay,” He vice gripped Jon’s shoulder, “We’ll still talk later.” And headed back inside.

 

Rickon hopped up to push Bran in Robb's direction. They were clearly uncomfortable with knowing Jon’s intimate secret and the fact that he had no idea that they were in on it had guilt written all over their faces. But Jon didn’t seem to really read into it.

 

Arya kissed Sansa's cheek, “Love you.” She said it with a sharp fierceness and looked pointedly at Sansa before following the other kids.

 

Then it was just them. The spearmint, the whiskey, and the freezing fall air. Sansa’s teeth had been chattering for a while, and she wrapped her arms around her middle to keep herself warm. Earlier, she had accidentally left her coat in her parent’s backseat. There was no retrieving that now.

 

Jon looked horrible really; this close up she could tell he had been crying too. “I…I am so sorry. I don’t really know how to….”

 

Sansa held her hand out wordlessly for his keys, which he obliged eagerly. Jon tore his hand through his tangled hair and sighed, “I was awful.”

 

She began walking into the parking lot at that moment, scanning through the parked cars for Jon’s. Shoes would be a good idea, but she was nervous to stop moving. Anxious that given the opportunity Jon would take a hold of her arm, and she didn’t want to think of what would come afterwards.

 

So she begins the frantic search for his car with her bare feet on the frigid, damp pavement and prays that he’ll silently follow her quick footsteps. A wave of relief courses through her when she recognizes the clack of his dress shoes from behind her.

 

“Sansa! Please!” Jon caught up as soon as she found his car at the edge of the lot and unlocked it. Sansa spun around to watch his heaving chest, and now raked her eyes over him.

 

“You could have told me.” Sansa turned and walked around the hood of the car to pull herself inside the driver’s seat. Jon stood wordlessly gaping after her until following suit. The car smelled of his Jack Daniel’s and Sansa felt the very same anger swelling in her chest.

 

“Tell you what?” Jon looked at her worriedly.

 

“Robb and Arya told me.” Sansa started the car and Jon slammed his head back on the headrest.

 

“You could have told me.” Sansa went on, “You were so bossy and condescending to me.”

 

Jon looked out the window as Sansa pulled out.

 

“Say something!” Sansa yelled, making Jon wince.

 

Jon put a thoughtful finger to his lips before nodding slowly and closing his eyes. “If I say it out loud, it’s all true. If we bond over the corpses in our lives that’s all we’ll be to each other.”

 

It began to rain against the windshield, soft droplets landing across the glass as Sansa navigated her way out onto the busy streets. “If I had asked, would you have told me?”

 

Jon shrugged, “I couldn’t say.”

 

Sansa knew that now at least.

 

The air was sticky between them with so much palpable tension it threatened to smother her. All the words neither of them would say.

 

“I’m sorry too, you know. I could’ve been a better listener. Or at least learned to become one.” Sansa nodded as her thoughts formed into words. “But it’s not fair for you to have been angry with me for not knowing something was wrong when you wouldn’t even tell me. I thought we were friends.”

 

Jon didn’t say anything and Sansa wasn’t sure if he had heard her or not. The radio was singing softly, but was beginning to be drowned out by the rainfall.

 

“I wasn’t drunk every time we hung out either.” Jon stole a glance at her.

 

Sansa didn’t say anything as they neared his neighborhood. That was something she needed to think on. What would it mean if he had been? If he couldn’t get to work or function without a drink, how did she expect their meet ups to be any different?

 

“I wasn’t.” Jon reiterated as she pulled into his neighborhood.

 

Sansa felt this sudden weight of the silence between them, this rushing feeling that something was going to happen. That whatever was about to be said between them would change everything. The fear of that kept her silent for just a bit longer. Finally, as she pulled up to his house she yanked the keys out and turned to him.

 

“I don’t know if I believe that.” Sansa eyed him down. Jon straightened in his seat, and cleared his throat a couple times before opening his mouth again.

 

“The best way to describe it is you were a new alcohol. No, wait, just…” Jon pulled at his hair and his shirt, “Better than it. That’s not a fair comparison, just, hear me out.”

 

The rain thundered outside the car, and the look in Jon’s eyes made her stomach fall. In an admittedly cowardly move, Sansa pulled out her phone and texted the sibling group chat for somebody to come and get her. That she was ready to picked up and Jon was home safe.

 

They had apologized, and this was all that really had to be said. Right?

 

Jon fidgeted and twisted in his seat until gaining her full attention once again.

 

Sansa crossed her arms and waited for him to continue. Jon frowned and looked at the car ceiling before mustering the strength to look back at her,

 

“When I was with you, all I cared about was what you read or if you read what I did or if you liked it and if you had slept the night before. Everything was hell for me. I didn’t get the job I wanted, I lost…a lot. But you became my friend and you’re so different and I started to care about you way more than I ever thought I would. I don’t have to drink anything to be with you.” Jon’s eyes were full of drunken tears. Sansa blinked and realized that she was crying too.

 

“Jon,” She choked.

 

“You, you are the last person on Earth I thought that I would care this much about, but I do.” Jon nodded, “You are the only, _only_ person I wanted to talk to about all of this. But I didn’t want you to freak out or to hurt you with any of it.”

 

“You don’t have to protect me.” Sansa sniffled and attempted a smile.

 

Sansa boldly grabbed his face, they hadn’t so much as really hugged since all of this…whatever. “You could’ve told me.”

 

Jon placed a hand on top of hers and slowly bobbed his head up and down, a tear escaping, “Maybe I should’ve but you were so sad and I didn’t want to make it worse. Hanging out with you made us both take our minds off of all the shit.”

 

“Robb, he just, everything is so good for him. I can’t be this. I can’t be a burden to your family after they have already given me so much.” Jon shook his head.

 

“That is what family is. You love each other so it’s never a burden to be there for each other.” Sansa squeezed tighter onto his face, and he leaned into her cold hands. She wished they were warm enough to show how she felt on the inside. God, she knew she was a wreck, her hair had fallen from it’s neat bun and she could just feel her tears running more make up off of her face.

 

“Sansa,” Jon swallowed and reached his hands over to grab her face in return.

 

They sat like that for a moment, searching each other, crying silently as they stared at one another.

 

This was different. Because for the first time since they ate that Chinese food and since she met up with him on campus, this made sense. She knew what this was.

 

This was two grieving people holding on to each other for dear life.

 

Jon gently dropped his hands from her face, “That was shitty back there. You don’t have to forgive me.”

 

“I don’t have to.” Sansa repeated his actions and dropped her hands too, “But I think I will anyways. I don’t think you’ll be off my family’s hook though.” She softly smiled and Jon bit his lip.

 

“I already got an earful from your Dad.” Jon looked at his hands and back to her, “I deserved it.”

 

“You did.” Sansa placed his keys in his lap when she saw headlights pull up behind them. “No more secrets. We tell each other how we feel.”

 

Jon sighed, “You too. I know you feel guilty all the time.”

 

Sansa opened her mouth and closed it as her phone dinged. Arya was behind them in her blue car. It was a torrential downpour outside, and Jon was still sitting in his seat. “I just feel like I ruin all the holidays or anything that should be happy.”

 

“You’re allowed to.” Jon shrugged, “Holidays suck when you lose someone.”

 

Sansa swallowed and slowly nodded, “Everyone gets mad.”

 

“No, no.” Jon turned to look at her again, “No one gets angry at you. They just don’t know how to help. None of them know how to deal with this. Just like you and I don’t either.”

 

“Is Ygritte mad at you?” Sansa tilted her head.

 

“I have a horrible habit of self destruction.” Jon looked out the window behind her.

 

“Is that why…tonight….” Sansa tried to catch his eyes again but he looked down to his shoes and nodded.

 

“You’re a good person.” Jon looked back at her with his jaw clenched.

 

“I think you are too.”

 

Jon scoffed, “Maybe deep down.”

 

“Maybe you could change that.” Sansa said just as Arya honked her horn.

 

They both jumped and let out a laugh, “Yeah maybe.”

 

Sansa undid her seatbelt and braced herself for the freezing rain. “Wait,” Jon slid his suit jacket off and passed it to her, “Take it, you’ll freeze.”

 

Normally she would have refused, but this was an exception. So Sansa grabbed his jacket and thanked him, “Can we hang out before the wedding?”

 

Jon nodded, “Thanks for the ride.”

 

Sansa swung the door open to get out and Jon grabbed her arm just as she began to slip out of his car, “You looked nice tonight.” He shouted over the roar of the rain.

 

A wide smile spread across her face and she slammed the door, grinning all the way to her little sister’s car. As she pulled her wet self inside, Arya eyed her down. “How was it?”

 

“I think it’ll get better.” Sansa tossed his jacket in the backseat and they both watched Jon sprint up to his front porch, he stumbled on a few steps, and then struggled with the front door as they watched in silence.

 

“Everyone is pissed.” Arya said as soon as he got inside.

 

“Because he was late and drunk?” Sansa looked at Arya’s furious eyes.

 

She shrugged, “That didn’t help. But because of how he was to you. His comment about your wedding.”

 

Sansa sucked in a breath and chose not to comment.

 

“Apparently Dad grabbed him by the jacket and slammed him up against the wall in the bathroom right before he came out to talk to you.” Arya grinned.

 

Sansa gaped, “Oh my god…Dad!” Her eyes went wide, “Slamming Jon against walls?”

 

Arya nodded, “Gendry saw the whole thing. He told me when we got back inside. Bran and I had to talk Robb out of coming here to get you. He would’ve more than likely caused more trouble.”

 

“No one needs to beat anyone up.” Sansa sighed. “But tell Robb thanks.”

 

“I don’t think Robb would’ve been half as scary as Dad. Can you imagine?” Arya and Sansa exploded with laughter at the image of Ned breaking bad. It was never funny when you were the one under the heat but damn, if it didn’t feel good to know Jon was called out.

 

“I think things will get better.” Sansa said after their laughter had died down and they were well on their way back to their parents.

  

“It always does.” Arya squeezed her sister’s hand then returned it to the wheel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all like where this is headed and this shift between them. I'd like to note that Sansa is a strong character. I do not plan on making her give up everything to magically fix Jon. It is a hard time for the two of them, and now they're both aware of it, and more open with one another.


	10. Xs and Os

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Note that the first two parts are **FLASHBACKS.**  
>  Jon's is taken place the night that he and Sansa first get coffee together.

# Chapter Ten: Xs and Os

* * *

_Three Years Ago. Sansa and Harry's first dance._

 

"

Sansa Hardyng." Harry’s soft whisper is like wake honey poured in her ear. A sweet kiss placed on the top of her made up hair, all of its twists and braids, made Sansa beam up at her new husband with glee. This was the most exciting moment of the whole ceremony for Sansa, as they'd been practicing for months, and Harry even stomached ballroom lessons for her.

 

“The catering was disgusting,” Sansa scrunched her nose and Harry let out a low chuckle, “Well, you picked it.”

 

Harry had wanted crab cakes and lobster rolls, but it was a spring wedding and Labor Day wasn’t for another month. It would’ve been tacky to have such nautical seafood at their April ceremony.

 

Sansa had picked out chicken, potatoes, and greens. Simple enough, you’d think. It was dry and tasteless and she’d only gotten about two bites before having to rescue her brother Robb from a thirsty bachelorette. Robb Stark was prime meat at a function like this. Everyone in town knew he was being groomed to become the new Eddard Stark.

 

“Your vows were so lovely, I wish I had gotten to go first so that mine wouldn’t have been so…bland.” Sansa looked up at her handsome husband and watched his eyes do their twinkle. There was never a situation Harry Hardyng couldn’t spin around and make better. Ever since high school, he was always showing her the greener side of things. Maybe she didn’t win Homecoming Queen but she’d won Prom Queen. And yeah, she didn’t get into Delta Kappa, but she had become the president of Sigma Kappa; reinventing the chapter and changing it into sorority royalty. If there was a will, there was a way. And if there was a smile of Sansa Stark’s tart face, it was from Harry Hardyng.

 

“Aw cut it out, your vows were great San. How long did it take for you to write them?” Harry spun her around before pulling her close again, “About 3 days. But collectively probably 5 or 6 hours of rewriting and editing.” She lay her head comfortably on his broad chest as they swayed to the music.

 

English had always been Sansa’s strong suit. All her life she'd easily been enchanted by stories, songs, and poems. But when it came to putting her feelings for Harry into words, nothing seemed right. Everything was an overused cliché or completely indescribable. 

 

“They were perfect.” Harry placed a soft kiss on her lips and butterflies danced in her stomach. A flush crawled across her face when she thought of everyone staring at them. It felt amazing to both be in the spotlight together.

 

“What about yours?” Sansa tried to keep up with his fast steps.

 

Harry shrugged nonchalantly, “About an hour. I wrote up some ideas and at the bachelor party your brother brought up Jon’s expertise.”

 

“ _Jon Snow_?” Sansa gawked.

 

“Oh no, baby, they were my ideas. You know I’m not good at all that writing stuff; I just wanted them to be special for you. So I outlined what I wanted it to sound like and Jon pieced it together.” Harry kissed her hair once more.

 

Jon Snow always ruined _everything_. Family vacations, her childhood playroom, and her siblings. Once upon a time, all Sansa had wanted was a pink playroom but when Jon suggested green, everybody teamed up against her to paint it an awful shade of booger green. Everyone was always team Jon. Oh poor Jon with his family who didn’t pay him any mind. Woe is Jon Snow with his sad eyes and English degree. Sansa sought out his moping face in the crowd just to shoot him a look but Harry squeezed her waist.

 

“I just didn’t want them to sound silly. I wanted it to be perfect for you.” Harry explained himself, bringing her back to him. Her anger subsided as she slowly nodded, because they were perfect. Harry had thought it all through so that every thing about this wedding would be her fairy tale dreams come true. Her ball gown that he special ordered for her, the fancy hair salon that he rented for her and her bridesmaids, even down to obeying her wish to not have Jon in the wedding party.

 

He wasn’t family, she insisted when her mother scolded her. Catelyn Stark went on about how Jon had been nothing but nice to Sansa for the entirety of her life, and it wasn’t false. But Jon hadn’t really been a _friend_ either. Throughout their lives they had had little to no communication between them. There had never been a reason to, just like there was no reason for Jon to be in her wedding party. Harry had been torn about it, because he genuinely liked Jon. Apparently, Jon Snow could play a mean game of basketball and was the only one who could keep up in political banter with Harry. Jon Snow keeps you on your toes, Harry had claimed.

 

The last place Sansa wanted to be on her wedding day was on her toes.

 

“I love you Sansa Hardyng.” Harry kissed her just as the song ended, and the stiffness in her shoulders immediately dissipated.

 

Because she was now Sansa Hardyng.

 

**xxxxx**

 

_May. 5 Months before Robb's wedding. Hours after first coffee with Sansa._

 

Thick summer heat filled Jon’s lungs, summers in Winterfell weren’t usually anything to complain about, but the stuffiness of his bedroom was. It was this sick little game he had. Finding new ways to punish himself for the way things had ended up. 

 

Tonight when he came home from a meeting, he didn’t bother to turn the AC on. So he lay in the stillness of his room with beads of sweat pooling and dripping down every inch of his sticky skin. It was right before summer semester and Jon never had taught classes during the vacation before. Typically, the days were filled with reading and relaxing. Ygritte had a boat they’d take out to the lake whenever she got a break from work.

 

Sometimes, when people leave your life you find yourself instinctually waiting around. You don't watch an episode of the television show you watch together, because they'd be upset if you watched without them. You still buy the dairy free creamer even though you're not the one who is lactose intolerant. You decide to teach over summer break because you're dying just to see their face, even if just by a walking glance. It was obvious that he was still in denial over everything, like he was constantly waiting for Ygritte to come back so he could tell her about all the craziness he’s felt. To fill her in on this wild dream where he was single for the first time in forever, how he’d been chasing this girl around just to try to get to look in her eyes one more time.

 

But the girl _was_ Ygritte. And she didn’t want to look at him anymore.

 

She had made that perfectly clear.

 

Today, she finally resurfaced after her rehabilitation therapy for anorexia. The very disease that destroyed her, their relationship, and his pending fatherhood.

 

Jon was in his lonely routine he’d made up since she left for treatment three months ago. The moment she burst through the door, he was in the middle of his self indulgent Prison Break mini-marathon while sipping on his whiskey before heading in to work. It must not have been a pretty sight, because Ygritte's face fell as soon as she laid eyes on him.

 

Maybe Jon would never be a pretty sight to her ever again.

 

Nonetheless, he shoved the empty plate he had resting on his bare stomach to the coffee table, and straightened up.

 

“Hey.” Ygritte glanced around their home and then back at him.

 

Jon cleared his froggy throat, “Um, hey. You look…nice.” It wasn’t a lie. There was life back into her bright eyes, lips full, and her hair was washed and pulled back neatly. Nothing like the corpse of the woman that he had scraped up off the bathroom floor three months ago.

 

It'd been two weeks since he'd last gone to see her. There were so many excuses and none of them good as to why they weren't really communicating once she entered treatment. Most of it was traced back to his white hot anger and guilt for feeling that way. At first he had gone to every group therapy session, but it didn't seem to help either of them. Only started to make the obvious more clear, and it terrified him to no end. After all that they lost, he couldn't bare the thought of losing her too. So they slowly stopped reaching out over the last month, and Jon buried his head into the sand as deep as it could go.

 

 

He self-consciously licked his lips in the heavy silence that hung between them, and looked to his cell phone lying beside the empty plate and saw no missed call or texts.

 

Then he looked back at the girl in the doorway.

 

Ygritte had not called him to say she was home. There was not even a text to say she had landed.

 

“You look nice too.” She lied and kept lingering in the doorway.

 

Jon stood then, even though he felt like sinking. It wouldn’t be right to hug her but his arms reached out anyways. So she fell into his grasp, but did not cling the way he did. Ygritte felt like a limp noodle in his arms, even though she had noticeably put on weight. Which was a good thing.

 

“How was it?” Jon awkwardly asked while forcing himself to drop his desperate grasp. The words came out of his mouth as if he were speaking to a distant aunt about her trip to Hawaii.

 

Then Ygritte unraveled like a wool sweater. The kind that Ygritte would get Jon for Christmas and tell him gave him character and brought out his eyes.

 

This was it. She couldn’t be in a relationship, so she was going to gather her things and move out. It was what was best for the both of them, their relationship was merely a security blanket, and that they both needed to be happy. Winterfell University was not her finish line, that she had goals and aspirations. None of which included Jon, clearly.

 

And so now Jon lay in his sauna of a room with the sweat laden sheets that Ygritte had purchased from Target, and thought about how different it would be if he were a father at this very moment. What if he had finally gotten his chance to be a father like Ned was to him? Would that fill this emptiness that had crawled up and seeped into his bones?

 

Sansa had looked like a stranger on his campus today, like a random person when she sat across from him at the coffee place. He had no idea what had overcome him in getting to know the prim and proper Stark girl. Arya was easy; all sports, sarcasm, and business. Robb was his best friend, and even though he was fully enveloped in wedding shit, he was still his best friend. Sitting in silence was still fun with Robb Stark. Bran was funny, bright, and always gave Jon a run for his money when it came to trivia. Rickon was Rickon, a loyal, kind, and dorky brother who could probably beat him in all their arm wrestling matches, but didn't, just to save Jon's ego. The Starks were his family.

 

Sansa always kept at least 3 feet of distance between them for as long as he could remember. It was like she’d never forgive or forget the fact that his parents wanted nothing to do with him, so why should she? He could probably count the number of substantial conversations they’d had on one hand. And he’d been coming around the Stark’s estate since he was 7.

 

Jon never knew that Sansa had a nice laugh or that she knew a single word of Shakespeare. Never had it dawned on him that Sansa Stark did anything other than dream and be a wife to her now dead husband.

 

So Jon stared at his ceiling and tried to count each time he made her smile at coffee, tried to imagine what Ygritte would say about it all. She had always insisted he be nice to her. Ygritte was the one who made him speak to her at the funeral. Even though all he did was place a weird hand on her shoulder and mumble “Sorry Sansa.”

 

The memory of it made him wince in his sheets.

 

Maybe if he lay still enough in his sheets, Ygritte would appear next to him. To be a voice of reason telling him to take a shower and put the AC on, that he was being gross and annoying. Ygritte would tell him he was being nice, that his book suggestion to Sansa was nice, that they should go over to the Starks for dinner sometime soon, because that’d be nice too.

 

Ned and Catelyn wouldn’t have really liked that though. Ned and Catelyn didn’t really take to Ygritte’s bitter sarcasm and belittling digs at Jon’s expense. But they didn’t see what she looked like when she woke up or hear the way she’d sing Elton John in the shower.

 

Did Sansa like Elton John?

 

Jon squeezed his eyes shut and wondered if Sansa was drawing in her new sketchbook or reading the book he passed onto her. _Year of Magical Thinking_ was the book that Ned gifted to him when he heard from Robb about his baby.

 

Ned told Jon he’d make a better father than anyone he knew.

 

That night Jon dreamt of a baby with red hair, but this time Ygritte wasn’t the one holding it.

 

 

**xxxxx**

_Current Day_

 

_I have to start getting ready at 1. Want to grab lunch or coffee before the day starts?_

 

A text from Jon read aloud by Arya Stark. “Are you going to go? We have the hair girls coming to Talisa’s at 12.” Arya tossed her cell phone back to her and wiggled her eyebrows playfully.

 

It was 9:00 now, Sansa was already showered, dressed, and brushing her teeth. Arya crossed her arms at her sister in their bathroom and watched her pick at her pores. “Well?” Arya pressed.

 

“Yeah. Text him to meet me at Starbucks in 20.” Sansa waved at Arya.

 

“Starbucks in 20 xoxoxoxo” Arya smirked as she typed a thousand more Xs and Os.

 

Sansa probably wouldn’t have cared even if she saw.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you like the flashbacks? Would you like to see more?


	11. Orange Dresses and Marlboros

 

# Chapter Eleven: Orange Dresses and Marlboros

* * *

 

Starbucks are notoriously busied, overcrowded, and falsely cozy for a chain coffee company. This morning it was no different. People chatted on cell phones, tapped their feet, and shouted their orders to the barista over the too loud elevator music. It was not the best place to have a one on one conversation with somebody like Jon Snow; particularly because mumbles and grunts made up his entire vocabulary. Those were hard enough to decipher in a silent room let alone in this bustling Starbucks.

 

The elephant in the room was larger than the pretentious hipsters’ egos as they tapped away at their laptops and sipped their iced macchiatos. Sansa and Jon had been sipping on their coffee and talking about the weather, House of Cards, and the new Ben Affleck movie coming out. Neither one of them had yet broached the subject of Ygritte or Harry.

 

No, Sansa was not looking forward to standing up on the altar and not getting to look out into the pews and spot Harry shooting her a knowing smile or giving her a teasing wink. This was going to be her first wedding since the loss of him, and it had always seemed so impossible. Something for her to deal with later on, but here they sat, wedding day and Sansa had done practically nothing to mentally prepare for the day ahead of her.

 

Thankfully, Talisa and Robb had both skipped the bachelor and bachelorette parties, so Sansa didn’t have to pretend penis cakes were hilarious or hold anyone’s hair back after too much drinking. Robb didn’t want to have any strippers dancing on his lap or shoving their pushed up tits all in his face. Apparently there was a backstory, but Sansa deliberately chose to not listen to Theon Greyjoy explain their trip to Vegas a few years ago.

 

A lull in their conversation became an awkward silence, and Sansa decided to just go for it. What was the worst that could happen? Jon yelling or giving some short, snarky remark to her? Been there, done that. “When is Ygritte coming?”

 

Jon looked up from his paper cup and sighed, “She’s meeting us at the church.”

 

Sansa peaked her eyebrow in interest, “At the church?”

 

“I have to do the best man stuff, you know, all the pictures and getting ready. And Ygritte isn’t in the wedding party.” Jon took a small sip and darted his eyes around.

 

“You weren’t in my wedding party either.” Sansa didn’t want to ask any more about Ygritte or he’d shut up like a clam and they’d be reduced to small talk.

 

Jon laughed, a sharp and abrupt noise from his chest and shook his head almost fondly, “Shit. I forgot about that. You were some bitch.”

 

“That was mean of me, I’m sorry for that.” Sansa looked at her coffee and back at him, but he wore an amused expression. It pissed her off because here she was trying to apologize and show remorse and all Jon Snow could do was smirk at her.

 

“It was.” Jon nodded, “But you got married anyhow. At least I was able to get drunk at the reception. Do you remember how trashed I got with Arya?” Jon snickered when Sansa’s expression soured. God, she had been livid, Arya was supposed to dance with one of the groomsmen and refused. Then she stood on a chair at some other point and told everyone that it was the lamest party she’d ever attended and demanded some Ramones be played right that instant.

 

Meanwhile, Jon, Bran, Rickon, and Robb all cracked up around her. Needless to say, that had gone over like a lead balloon.

 

 

College had been Arya’s glorious British punk phase, and much to Catelyn’s dismay, she donned black eyeliner that made her look just like a raccoon and black high top Converse with purple laces every single day.

 

 

“Yeah jackass.” Sansa rolled her eyes, “But that’ll probably be me tonight. I definitely do _not_ plan on being sober for this.”

 

“You and me both.” Jon nodded along.

 

“If I get married again, you can be in the wedding party the second time around.” Sansa tried to joke, but it wasn’t funny. Jon smiled anyhow and thanked her to save her from embarrassment. Jon’s stoic eyes watched her fidget before he asked, “Why didn’t you want me in the party?”

 

“You annoyed me. Everything about you annoyed me and I didn’t want you annoying me at my wedding.” Sansa sounded like such a ridiculous, vapid bitch to her own ears.

 

But Jon didn’t seem to care, he just cracked up and these little crinkles that popped by his eyes were filled with the tears that leaked out. Sansa laughed because he looked just like her father when he wasn’t even related to her at all.

 

“I am pretty annoying.” Jon wiped at his eyes until his laughter died down.

 

“You really are.” Sansa teased him and he raised his hand up to give her a clean, solid middle finger and tilted his head to the side as she cracked up all over again.

 

**xxxxx**

 

Altars are really hot and not enough people talk about it. Probably because if Sansa mentioned it, there would be a whole slew of jokes about her being possessed or asking when the last time she even stepped into a church. Of course she’d answer for Harry’s funeral and the jokes would fall flat. People’s faces would melt from gleeful and teasing to sorry and sympathetic.

 

But that didn’t make Sansa sweat any less beneath the lights hanging so closely above her head. Sansa was wearing a burnt orange dress that Talisa joked matched her hair. It didn’t and it honestly looked awful on her and way worse on Arya. But Talisa’s maid of honor and friend from work both looked lovely in the color. It was some sort of cruel joke to be a bridesmaid after being married. Definitely worse when you were married and are now single again.

 

The minister went on in animated tones about love and marriage and Sansa looked out to catch another glimpse of Ygritte in her navy dress. Why couldn’t she be wearing navy?

 

Ygritte’s hair was pulled back, just like at New Years, but this time the fishtail was loose and carefree. There was only a trace of make up on her and then a bright shade of red lipstick on her thin lips. But Ygritte was the kind of girl who pulled off thin lips, because she was so thin all over. Sorrow filled her heart when she imagined her with a little bump, and thought of what kind of mother she’d be. Would the baby be here already? Would they have gotten a babysitter or brought the child with them to lie in Ygritte’s arms?

 

Blue met blue and Ygritte smiled softly at the eye contact, but Sansa jerked her eyes away. _Shit. Shit. Shit_. What was worse than getting busted actually staring at someone? How long had she zoned out for?

 

“I do.” Talisa laughed through Robb’s response and the crowd let out a giant cheer as they placed their hands to each other’s faces, and planted a loving kiss on their lips.

 

“Ladies and gentlemen, I introduce you to Mr. and Mrs. Robb Stark!” The minister threw his hands up in such overstated excitement that Sansa found herself laughing. Robb and Talisa had their intertwined hands high above their heads and began to descend down the steps of the altar.

 

Jon gave Sansa a sloppy wink when they met eyes across the altar.

 

God, why was it so hot up here?

 

**xxxxx**

 

Crowds filtered through the country club’s French doors. It was an absolutely perfect night, not too hot or too cold. Usually by the end of September it was already in the low 50s in Winterfell. But it was a particularly mild night for the middle of October, and Sansa felt comfortable in her awful orange gown.

 

“This fucking blows.” Arya tugged at the chiffon and fussed at her short hair gathered into a small bun at the base of her beck. If you didn’t know Arya, she looked absolutely beautiful, but if you had ever spoken to her one time in your life, you knew this was _not_ the look for her. Arya’s dress had two spaghetti straps and a sweetheart neckline; that did not do any favors for her small chest and scarred shoulder. While Sansa’s had an open back and tied around her neck, so at least her dress flattered her somewhat.

 

“I wish we could’ve worn the suits.” Sansa winked and Arya rolled her made up eyes. The two of them had full on make up and hair from today at Talisa’s. Sansa was shocked that Arya went along with it all, but then again Arya was much different than the 12 year old who would crush Sansa’s blush compacts any time she pissed her little sister off.

 

Which had been often.

 

The lights dimmed as the DJ took his place by the dance floor. Bran appeared by Sansa’s side with the drinks he had promised them when they had first arrived to the reception. All three of them downed their drinks wordlessly before Bran automatically turned to get them another round. “You’re the best!” Arya called after him and he shot them back a wordless thumbs up.

 

“How’re ya holdin’ up?” Arya crossed her arms and Sansa shrugged, “Ya know, I kind of put those feelings in a box, in another box, in a deep, deep corner at the back of the closet of my mind. So, I’d rather not talk about that now.”

 

Arya nodded quickly and pointed out Theon Greyjoy and his already messy hair, she made some comment about their missing bridesmaid.

 

“Hey guys,” His voice made every hair stand up on the back of her bare neck, “You remember Ygritte?”

 

Sansa braced herself to look at the girl who had almost had Jon’s baby. The girl who was the reason they were even friends in the first place. Arya said hello and complimented her bright chrome shoes, and everyone looked to Sansa. “These dresses look beautiful on you two.” Ygritte motioned to their unfortunate uniforms, “Nice to see you Sansa.”

 

“Your dress looks lovely, it’s nice to see you too.” The last part of her statement came out sounding pointed and bitter. Just as she scrambled to cover her unintentional and shitty sounding remark, Bran arrived with the second round. “There ya are. Sorry guys, I didn’t know you were over here.”

 

An awkward moment fell between them and Sansa chugged back the second drink of the night. Talisa had absolutely zero alcohol at her home when they were prepping earlier. The Stark sisters were torn between killing her or setting the place on fire, but decided they’d be better off sucking it up and making it to the reception. Robb had answered their infuriated texts that there was going to be an open bar.

 

“I think I’ll go grab a beer.” Jon nodded towards the bar and Ygritte gripped his forearm, “Is that a good idea?”

 

“I think it’s a _fine_ idea Ygritte. Would you like one?” Jon pulled his arm from her grasp and waited for her to answer. When Ygritte’s face fell, he moved to grab her hand, but it was her turn to pull away.

 

“The wedding was nice.” Bran cleared his throat and pretended to look around the room, “I’m gunna go find Mom and ask her to dance with me.” And with that the comic relief was gone. Arya seemed irritated by Ygritte’s lone presence now since Jon had used Bran’s break from the group to make his way to the bar.

 

“I heard you teach at Winterfell.” Sansa tried to smile. Arya pulled her phone out as Ygritte tensed, “Um, I was yes. But I’m leaving.”

 

“Oh.” Sansa wished she had asked Jon to grab her a glass of champagne, “Where to?”

 

“It’s a bioengineering firm a little north from here. I’m going there with a colleague of mine.” Ygritte crossed her arms.

 

“Tormund?” Arya didn’t even look up from her phone.

 

“Yes.” Ygritte glanced harshly at Arya. Rage filled Sansa quicker than ever and she looped her arm through her sisters and began to pull, “Well, good luck with that. Nice to see you.” And she happily tugged her sister away from this incredibly uncomfortable situation.

 

“Good call.” Arya shoved her phone in one of the stupid matching clutches they were given and discarded it with the pile of her family’s things. “Let’s go dance!” A pop song came through the speakers at that very moment, one that Arya loved to play whenever she helped their Mom run any errands or prep for dinners.

 

Drinks were poured, high heels long kicked off, and the party was in full swing. Rob and Talisa were glued to one another, but Sansa never stared too long for fear that she’d absolutely lose her shit. So she stuck with her siblings and took shots and danced shamelessly to Justin Bieber.

 

It’s only when her feet started to ache and she was really dying for some water that she actually stopped to look around for Jon. She had tried to keep an eye out while partying but found that whenever she wasn't completely engrossed in the music or dancing, she’d grow upset. It’s easy to twirl around with your Dad or do the Macarena with your newly married older brother. But it sure as shit hurts to think about her own first dance or how Harry absolutely _hated_ Justin Bieber but would still sing along to the words with Sansa when he came on the radio.

 

Sansa snuck off the dance floor to grab a glass of water, she was two mixed drinks, two shots, and a few glasses of champagne into the party. Needless to say: she was drunk. After getting her water she snuck out the side door she had spotted people slipping out of earlier just to get a little fresh air.

 

It lead her out to an empty cement handicap entrance without a soul in sight. The night was still lovely, the stars bright in the autumn sky. Sansa stared wistfully above her in between sips. All the fresh air was working wonders for her alcohol intake, and the water certainly helped.

 

There was a soft kick to her calf and suddenly none other than Jon Snow stood beside her. His navy bowtie loose and undone but still wrapped around his neck, and a cigarette dangled between his lips as he shot her a small smile, “Hey kid, how’s it going?”

 

Sansa shrugged and drank one long, last sip of her water before taking a big gasp of air. “I feel better now.”

 

“Because I’m here?” Jon gave another sloppy wink, just like the one on the altar, and held up a lighter to his Marlboro Red.

 

“I’m drunk.” Sansa watched him take a deep inhale and nod thoughtfully, “You are.”

 

“Where’s Ygritte?”

 

Jon didn’t say anything for a moment, just stared up at the sky. It was painfully obvious she wasn’t there anymore, but Sansa wanted Jon to tell her why. She hadn’t smoked since last February; she had bought a pack after sharing smokes with Ygritte and Jon as they brought in the New Year on her back porch. It was gross and smelled horrible but it burned her lungs, and at that point in time Sansa would’ve done anything to feel something.

 

“She left.”

 

“Are you drunk?” Sansa watched him go from looking at the stars to looking at her, a wry smile on his face. “I’m always drunk, but you knew that.”

 

“Is that why she left?” Sansa just wanted to fucking know where Ygritte went and who the hell she is and what the hell Jon wanted to do with her. Ygritte or herself. She was sick and tired of running in these weird circles where they give each other looks and get coffee and share books. Or how she eats pizza at his place and how they gripped onto each other in the car the night before.

 

“She left because she’s going to work with Tormund and because I drink too much and don’t talk about my feelings. Therapy taught her to love herself and how to unlove me, so I’m going to smoke this cigarette and pretend like tonight never happened.” Jon took a long drag but never looked away.

 

“Why did you drink?”

 

“I was nervous. I didn’t know what it’d be like bringing her here and I didn’t want you to not like her.” Jon shrugged.

 

“Why does it matter? You dated her long before we became friends.” This time Jon looked away and down to his shoes. “I told you last night, Sansa. You matter.”

 

The world got swirly, and the oxygen left her lungs. There was no answer coming to mind to what he just said, so Sansa kept her mouth shut. Silently, she reached for the pack of cigarettes bulging from his pocket and stole it. “Cigarettes are gross.”

 

Jon chuckled and didn’t fight to take it back from her. Sansa didn’t ever step back after reaching for the cigarette pack, and suddenly they were so close. The heat radiated off his body and without thinking, Sansa leaned her head on his shoulder. Because he was her friend and she knew he was hurting. And because this was a wedding and she had no husband.

 

Her sleepy, drunken eyes drifted shut and she listened closely to Jon’s breaths, his inhales and exhales of tobacco. Then, his firm hand was on her chin, pulling her close and planting a soft kiss right on her lips. It was tender and loving and tasted like smoke, whiskey, and his damn spearmint gum.

 

But friends don’t kiss friends like Jon just kissed Sansa.


	12. Bad Decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I have a feeling some of you are going to have strong feelings about how this unfolds.

 

# Chapter Twelve: Bad Decisions

* * *

 

Spearmint, whiskey, and bad decisions filled Sansa’s senses when she felt herself tilting her head to give Jon better access to her mouth. It felt completely foreign to be kissing anybody, let alone Jon Snow. Their tongues tangled on the exit ramp just outside of her first attendance to a wedding since her husband died. Jon’s sturdy hand just started to slip lower and her head began to spin, the moment catching up with her, and just as she pulled away, the door opened.

 

“Oh Jesus Christ!” Robb exclaimed.

 

The two of them pulled apart like they’d been shocked by electricity, Jon’s hand went to his hair and Sansa raised hers to cover her mouth. The maroon lipstick she’d had on was caught around Jon’s own mouth as Robb cursed under his breath.

 

“Not now. Nope. Not now.” Robb threw his hands up and turned to go right back where he had come from. Tears blurred Sansa’s eyes and she avoided looking at Jon who had taken a step back from her. “Oh god.” Sobs started to wrack her shoulders, ugly, honest, guttural noises passing from her lips. “Sansa, Sansa, I’m so sorry.” Jon placed his hands on either of her shoulders, but she violently shoved him off of her. “Get away! Go!” She screeched.

 

“I’m so sorry. I don’t know what-“ Jon’s voice broke.

 

“You can’t just kiss me! You can’t tell me I matter and kiss me!” Sansa wiped at her snot, “What the _hell_ are we doing.” She mumbled to herself, running her erratic hands through her hair.

 

“Sansa,” Jon begged her just as she started to get a hold of herself. Her breaths came easier but the shock and horror was quickly replaced with pure, white, hot rage. “No. No.” Sansa frantically shook her head, “I am not your _friend_ , Jon. I wanted to be, I _thought_ I was, but I am just your plaything. A girl to give you attention while you cry over your ex.”

 

Jon stood stunned, his mouth slightly agape like he didn’t recognize her. Or was maybe even seeing her in a new light. Either way, Sansa was sick of looking at him already and needed to get the hell out of there. “Sansa…” As he took a step forward, she took a step towards the door. “Don’t Jon.”

 

“It’s not like you weren’t doing the same exact thing to me!” Jon’s nostrils flared and Sansa whipped around to slap him, or cry, or run. But ended up just standing perfectly still, just as she had in the car last night, because whatever happened next would change them all over again.

 

“What?” She dared him.

 

“You’re telling me that I didn’t make a difference in your life? That you didn’t like hanging out with me or telling me about your day? You have never given two shits about me and when I saw how lost and upset you were last year, I wanted to be there for you. And in the end you proved to be someone I wasn’t worthy of having in my life any time soon.” Jon shoved his hands in his pockets and lowered his voice to say, “But you used me just as much. You used me to help you get over Harry.”

 

That did it. Sansa reached out and slapped him; the scruff of his beard scratched the palm of her hand. She’d never slapped a man before and regretted it the moment she did, but Jon didn’t say a thing. His eyes slowly closed and waited for whatever she had to say. “Don’t you _dare_ say I used you to feel better about my _dead husband_. Like I depended on you to save me or something. You’re not saving anyone.”

 

“I know that now but I wanted to. I really wanted to.” His hand went to cup where she had just slapped him.

 

“I shouldn’t have hit you. I’m sorry for that.”

 

Jon finally opened his eyes and a painful expression of regret and fear crossed his face. Jon’s hands grabbed her face and she just knew it, she knew he was going to kiss her, and if she hadn’t of slapped him, maybe she would have. But this was wrong and she was wrong and he was so, so wrong. This was not what friends did, so she shoved him away once more. “Don’t!”

 

Then she went and opened the door, “I thought we were friends and we’re not. You’re fucked up and I am trying to get my life in order. Get your shit together Jon! With or without me, with or without Ygritte.”

 

Once inside the reception again, she tossed the crumpled box of Marlboros to the floor she’d had in her hand since swiping them from him. Arya stood before her wide-eyed and worried, rushing through the crowd to help her with her grand escape.

 

She needed to be far, far away right this very instant.

 

**xxxxx**

 

It’d been three days since Robb and Talisa headed to Dorne for their honeymoon. Three days since Sansa threw rice and held back tears. Arya snuck away with her as soon as the newlywed’s car took off. Jon was nowhere to be found, even when Robb shouted for him before he and Talisa ducked into the car.

 

Right now, Sansa wished she didn’t care where he went after she slapped him and told him to get his shit together. Sansa stared at her blank bedroom walls and thought about the way he looked at her when he told her she mattered and how small he looked when she had left him out on that cement ramp.

 

She’d be signing the lease for her new place in a week; Arya had helped her pick it out a week before. Cat and Ned volunteered themselves and Rickon to help with moving and Arya offered up unnecessary help with decorating for when she moved in next month. The last three days Sansa has been drawing up ideas for paint, decoration, and lighting. She’d sketch up a possible layout while she thought about how Jon tasted just like his favorite gum.

 

After the wedding, Sansa slept in Arya’s bed and they exchanged late night stories about childhood and cried when they remembered Harry and laughed when they thought of how he would’ve partied at the reception. Harry was always on Arya’s side any time Sansa grew angry with her and it had been absolutely infuriating.

 

Just when their eyes had begun to get heavy, Arya whispered out into the darkness, “You’re different without him. You see me and listen to me. Harry was a great guy and a good husband to you, but you’ve grown a lot these past months. I don’t think you’d be sleeping over if he hadn’t of passed away.”

 

Sansa willed herself to stay silent while she processed her little sister’s words.

 

“I am not happy that he died or that he left you this way, but I think that the silver lining is family. You are my best friend.” Arya firmly grasped her hand under the sheets and squeezed. Tears fell for the fourth or fifth time that night and Sansa understood exactly what her little sister had meant. The blessing in this curse is a chance to do over what kind of person she had been. Because there was no way to be like how she was before.

 

Sansa’s blank pink walls looked exactly like they had when she had first moved back into her parent’s home. This time around Sansa didn’t feel so empty when she stared at the shadows cascading on them, because it was only a matter of time before she was in a place of her own. It was terrifying, exciting, and just what she needed after a boy like Jon Snow.

 

The sketchbook he had gifted to her on the anniversary of Harry’s death sat beside her on her nightstand, her cell phone resting atop it. Sansa sat up slowly and pushed the phone to the side, so she could get a glimpse at all her sketches over the past year. You could tell her bad days from her good ones, what color she would paint a wall, or how big she’d make a floor plan. It was a diary of sorts, and just when she was getting to the ones for her new place, her phone rang. Lit up the dark room with Jon’s contact and her breath completely caught.

 

There had been no mention of Jon. Sansa wasn’t aware if Robb or Arya had filled everyone in or if they just expected Jon to retreat after Ygritte disappearing that night. Either way, he hadn’t been around in the past 3 days.

 

“Hello?” Sansa’s voice was cold.

 

“Hi.” Jon’s voice was raspy with sleep.

 

Sansa didn’t say a word, just held her breath to concentrate on the sound of his. He seemed like he was half asleep.

 

“I just wanted to say sorry again.”

 

“Okay,” Was the only thing Sansa could think to say.

 

Jon let out a heavy sigh, “I wasn’t right. It wasn’t right to kiss you.”

 

“Okay.” She answered again. He was only repeating what she already knew.

 

“I want you in my life though.” Jon cleared the sleep from his throat, “I want my friend back.”

 

“I don’t think we’ve been friends for a long time.”

 

“You’re probably right. I was too busy mourning my life and falling in love with you did nothing but bring you into my shit.”

 

_Falling in love._

Sansa’s world tilted on its’ axis as she remained silent. Jon sighed once more, “I didn’t say that out loud before. I’m… I’m fucked. I shouldn’t have called.”

 

Sansa still couldn’t think of a thing to say.

 

“Well, the fall semester will be over soon and I’ll be headed to Castle Black college further north. I got a job there as a journalism professor and I’ll get to be on the board for the school’s newspaper. Something different, I uh, I need that.” Jon’s words sounded rehearsed, “I won’t bother you, if you don’t want me to.”

 

“I don’t know what I want.” Sansa’s pink walls felt like they were closing in on her.

 

“I don’t either.”

 

“I don’t think you should call me anymore.” Hot tears pooled in her eyes again. Crying for Jon or for Harry or for both. Sansa hadn’t been able to tell the difference over the past few days.

 

“Probably not. But I’ll want to.” Jon’s voice was strained, “Do you want me to leave you alone?”

 

Sansa thought for a moment about what that would mean. No sharing books, or texts, or stories, or visiting their favorite coffee shop, or campus, or his home. And maybe that was a good thing. Maybe Sansa needed to mourn Harry more without the weight of Jon’s potential alcoholism or his baby or ex girlfriend. Sansa wanted to be his friend, but he just claimed he was _falling in love_.

 

“I’ll leave you alone.” Jon answered for her, “I want you to be happy and I can’t do that for you.”

 

“I want you to be happy too.” Sansa quickly added.

 

“I think I could be. One day.” Sansa could imagine the way his eyebrows were probably creasing as he said that, like he was imagining himself on the surface of the sun, as happy as could be.

 

“You will.” Sansa assured him as much as herself. Because now was not the time to be with a boy who was moving so far and drowning himself in self hate and whiskey. Now was the time to decorate her new home and find a steady job.

 

“I won’t leave you alone if you don’t want me to.” Sansa didn’t want to leave him by himself; the sorrow could swallow you whole if you don’t have someone throwing you a life raft. Much like he had several times. She was caught between being a loyal friend and running scared.

 

“I need to be alone, I think.” Jon paused, “Bye Sansa.”

 

“Goodbye Jon.” Sansa stayed on the phone until he hung up 7 seconds later. Tears ran down her cheeks as she set the phone back on her sketchbook.

 

Her pink walls opened up, and she felt free as she cried for her friend and for her husband. For the baby that never got to meet it’s father and for the other red headed girl whom had her heart broken too many times to count. Life wasn’t fair for those who probably deserved it most.

 

But Sansa needed to learn to be alone and that was another silver lining Harry would give to her.

 

**xxxxx**

 

_3 Years Later_

_Thanksgiving_

 

Talisa jokingly rested her swollen belly on top of the kitchen island as Robb came from beside her with the turkey baster, “Gotta baste the turkey while it’s cookin’.” Earning a laugh from everyone in the kitchen prepping for the dinner. Robb leaned down to kiss his pregnant wife’s bulging stomach and gave her a tender smile, “You are one cute turkey.”

 

“Barf.” Arya whispered beside Sansa, and they both struggled to stifle their laughter. Arya was peeling potatoes and passing them to Sansa for a good rinse. Then they were handed to Loras to be chopped and tossed into a pot. It was a pretty neatly run organization as it was only their first year doing it. Next, they’d be in charge of the sweet potatoes for the pie and Loras would sneak in as many kisses to Sansa’s cheek as he could.

 

“Oh like Loras and Sansa are any better.” Bran scowled as he and Rickon cut up the bread for stuffing. Talisa smiled sweetly to Loras and Sansa’s blushing faces and waved away Bran, “Leave them be, you grump.”

 

And so it went, every Stark family member was in charge of something to fix for the holiday dinner. Loras snuck kisses on Sansa’s cheek anyhow, even when Bran and Arya teased them. Because Loras was sweet and kind and could take a joke. It had been easy bringing him to meet the family after rekindling her friendship with Margaery. Loras had been in town one night last year and Margaery forced her to meet up with them and catch a movie.

 

Loras always thought about her, was so genuine in everything he did, and never once pressured or rushed her into anything. He was much different than he had been in high school when he was the older jock. Loras and Robb got along just as they had as kids. Even though Loras had taken Talisa to the freshman homecoming, which Talisa thought was the funniest thing on planet Earth.

 

Margaery and Sansa were back at it again, only this time with their own interior design company. It started out as a small idea, but now was the number one kitchen-remodeling agency in all of Winterfell and top ranked in the North also. It kept her busy, proud, and happy. There was nothing like being back with her friend to do what they both loved. Together, they were unstoppable. With both of their creativity, workmanship, and influence, they had charmed their way to the top.

 

As they set the plates around the table for dinner, Sansa felt incredibly happy for the first time in a long time during the holidays. This was Thanksgiving number five without Harry Hardyng, and Sansa Stark was doing alright. A few months ago she had her last name legally changed back to Stark, and had taken on Hardyng as her middle name. Sansa Hardyng Stark sat beside Loras Tyrell and kicked Rickon’s leg when she saw him take a bite of a stolen roll.

 

Jon Snow was due at any moment, but Sansa hadn’t really been thinking about it. Not until they were all sitting and staring at each other, willing for someone’s small talk to fill the tension. He hadn’t been back around the Stark’s home while Sansa was there since three years ago. Sansa knew that had been on purpose. Mom and Dad had made several visits out to see him, along with Robb, but Sansa had not laid eyes on him since they had kissed at her older brother’s wedding. Robb had never spoken a word of it to Sansa, and figured that he and Jon had talked it out by themselves.

 

Rickon played hockey for Winterfell University and Jon had been to a few games, but Sansa had never been in attendance to any of those. That had been on purpose too. It would probably be fine to watch a sports game in the same vicinity as him, but if she didn’t have to, she didn’t want to.

 

Because what were they to each other? Something unresolved and maybe even something never meant to be solved in the first place. It had been this weird time where days blended together, her memory hazy from sorrow with glimpses of Jon Snow, but he had helped Sansa set her arrow straight. That she could credit Jon Snow with. Sometimes late at night when Loras had left to go back to his place, or was snoring quietly beside her, that face Jon had made when they sat in his car the night after the rehearsal dinner would cross her mind.

 

She wondered if she still mattered, even though she assumed the answer was probably not.

 

“Hey guys,” Jon’s voice called from the hallway behind Sansa, and every bone froze. Cheers erupted at his arrival and everyone rose from their seats to welcome him in for dinner. Sansa rose slowly, procrastinating turning to actually make eye contact with him, but then she felt him right next to her, and she had no choice.

 

“Hey man, nice seeing you again.” Loras shook Jon’s hand firmly. They’d been in the same grade but there was no way in hell that they had gotten along in high school. Sansa almost snickered thinking about Jon on a football team.

 

“Yeah, good seeing you. Happy Thanksgiving.” Jon smiled and looked directly at Sansa.

 

He was wearing a thick navy sweater over a flannel, his black jeans, and Chelsea boots that he loved so much. Usually Jon only wore his glasses when he was lazing around the house, but he was currently adjusting them on his nose and shyly smiling. The scruff that had decorated his cheeks three years ago was now a thick and envy inducing beard, he truly looked like a professor. “Hey Sansa, Happy Thanksgiving.” He gave a little wave and she returned it, giving him a small smile and bowing her head.

 

Bowing her head?! Sansa cringed at herself and went to say something to recover, but he was already walking over and hugging a drunken Arya. It was horrible, she wanted to jump out of her skin. But then Loras was gently tugging on her hand for her to return to his seat next to him.

 

The dinner was delicious, even though Robb had added way too much sugar to the green beans. Catelyn had the turkey in for a little too long, leaving it pretty dry, but not bad for her first turkey. This was their first Thanksgiving with no housekeepers or personal cooks. It was bizarre, different, and refreshing. It had been so fun cooking with her family and it was even better to sit with them and share the food.

 

Thanksgiving began to wind down after dessert was finished, and Sansa had just finished her piece of pumpkin pie for Harry. It had always been his favorite. Loras loved pecan pie and she really liked that about him. He made jokes with her brothers, listened to Arya talk about work, asked Jon about his teaching, and told Talisa he was excited to meet her and Robb’s baby.

 

“Thanks guys, let’s meet back up in the living room in about an hour to play some Monopoly.” Cat waved everyone away after they had cleared up the mess of the table. Everyone grabbed bottles of beer, water, or glasses of wine to take to their childhood rooms and relax.

 

“Hey Loras, want to come see the car?” Ned motioned for Loras to follow him out into the garage where his newly purchased muscle car sat parked and polished. Ned had bought himself a 1964 Mustang and loved to show anyone who had eyes his dream car.

 

“Yeah sure,” Loras looked to Sansa and squeezed her hand; “I’ll meet you for Monopoly?”

 

“Sure.” Sansa nodded and kissed him briefly.

 

Her hands had been full with the last of the plates, and she turned to place them in the sink, when she saw Jon looking at her through the glass back door.

 

“I’ve got it Sansa. Go on and relax before family time.” Catelyn busied herself with wiping down the counters.

 

Sansa turned to follow where her siblings had gone, down the hallway and up the stairs, but instead walked past her Mom and to her back porch. It’d been a long time since she’d been out here. Especially with Jon Snow.

 

He sat on the steps where he had retrieved her for her 27th birthday, a cigarette pursed in his lips.

 

She’d been here before; she smiled to herself and walked over to stand behind him. “You still smoke?”

 

“Not a lot. Just before I have to play Monopoly.” Jon looked over his shoulder at her, “Loras Tyrell, huh?”

 

Sansa nodded and sat beside him, watching him take a long pull of tobacco. “I met him after I started talking to Margaery again.”

 

Jon nodded and passed her the lit cigarette, but she snubbed it out on the wooden porch steps. He made no protest when he looked to her, “He seems like a good guy.”

 

“He is.” Sansa smiled awkwardly.

 

“Are you happy?” Jon watched her intently, the heat of his gaze causing her to shift uncomfortably.

 

“Yes.”

 

Jon nodded again and pursed his lips. “I’m happy you’re happy.”

 

“Are _you_ happy?” Sansa looked back at him, his face so full and his eyes less sad than she had last seen them. Jon did not smell like whiskey or spearmint but maybe a little bit like a bad decision.

 

“I think so, maybe.” Jon gave her that bittersweet smile, and Sansa wished she hadn’t snubbed the cigarette.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I decided on the time jump because I wanted Sansa and Jon to have been a little more removed from the shitty things that happened. We now know that Sansa has a rekindled friendship, lives on her own, has her own successful business, and is seeing Loras. We don't know as much about Jon. Now that it's been three years and it's the holiday season...we'll see how this unfolds.


	13. Mason

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3 I switched Loras to Joffrey. Thanks for pointing it out!! Thank you all so so so so much for your kind words! Special thanks to Pascal once again.

# Chapter Thirteen: Mason

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Nothing compares to the warmth and weight of a newborn baby in your arms. Little Mason Stark was brought into the world by Talisa three hours prior to Sansa getting to hold her nephew and godson for the very first time. A blue knit cap made by Catelyn capped off his head full of dark hair and a little lion blanket swaddled him to keep him all in one place like a little pea pod. If Sansa looked down at him for too long, undoubtedly tears would gather in her eyes. The very first Stark nephew and grandbaby was alive and well right in her arms.

 

“Oh look San, his eyes are opening.” Arya and Bran hovered over her shoulders drinking in the sight of him. Mason’s eyes flickered open and squinted in the bright luminous overhead lights. “It’s too bright, get the lights!” Arya hissed at Ned’s lingering figure. He quickly flipped the light switch so Mason could glance around the room.

 

“Oh Talisa, he’s so beautiful.” Sansa ran her index finger across the plump of his cheek. Talisa was drowsy, exhausted, and still managed to look lovely in her hospital bed. Rob was curled closely to her dozing in and out of sleep for the last 30 minutes. It’d been a 23 hour all natural labor and he claimed he needed to rest his broken hands from Talisa’s vice grip.

 

Jon Snow stood directly in front of her looking down in awe at the little baby. “You want a turn?” Sansa held out the little bundle of newborn Mason towards him. Jon’s eyes widened before he visibly thought out his answer. Clearly, he was frightened to hold the newborn, but really wanted a turn. “Hold your arms out like I have and I’ll place him there.” Sansa nodded towards his arms and he quickly abided.

 

“Maybe sit down Jon.” Robb’s sleepy voice suggested from across the room. At first Robb had to do the same, he’d been so nervous and giddy to hold his son for the first time. Jon nodded and anxiously pushed through the gathered Starks to the leather seat against the wall, his arms propped and ready for the baby.

 

“You guys are putting too much pressure on the poor guy.” Catelyn and Ned laughed to themselves, “San, Pass him the baby and maybe we should grab some food and come back?” Everyone watched Jon’s strained expression.

 

Ned and Catelyn quickly jumped at the opportunity to help, “Yes, great idea. We’ll all head to the cafeteria and grab some snacks. Sansa, you’ll meet us after you pass Mason over?” Ned motioned for them all to file out.

 

“I call next!” Bran shouted a little too loudly, Talisa flinched but quickly returned to her smoothed, graceful expression.

 

“Shh! Idiot!” Arya elbowed him as they left the room. Rickon looked over his shoulder at Robb and Talisa, “Do you guys want snacks or real food?”

 

Talisa scrunched her nose, “Not food. Maybe some pretzels, please.”

 

“If they have sandwiches I’ll take one. Thanks guys.” Robb smiled as they all headed out.

 

“Are you just so tired from delivering a baby Robb?” Sansa teased her sleep-deprived brother. He rolled his eyes, “No, mama bear over here put in the real work. I was just tired of everyone talking so much and so loud.”

 

Talisa started to laugh but cut herself short with a sharp hiss, “Ooh, ok, don’t make me laugh.” Sansa laughed softly and looked back to Jon’s robotic stance. His broad arms still held out and ready for Mason. “Okay, keep his head up and hold him close. If he gets cold he’ll cry.” Sansa whispered and leaned down, setting him in Jon’s sturdy arms.

 

“Oh wow. He’s so small.” Jon looked down at Mason and then smiled brightly at Robb and Talisa. “This is nuts.”

 

“Just a little.” Robb looked at Talisa, “We’re fucking parents.”

 

Talisa kissed his forehead and smoothed his hair, “You’re a fucking dad.”

 

“You’re a fucking uncle.” Sansa smiled at Jon, who looked up at her with watery eyes. “Aw, don’t get emotional, then you’ll make me get all emotional.” Sansa’s voice cracked at the sight of him with that little baby in his arms. He looked like he was on cloud nine, the way he kept looking between his best friend and the infant in his arms.

 

“I’ll go get drinks. Do you want a water or anything?” Sansa tried not to stare at Jon, but her heart swelled three times at the sight of him. Jon shook his head and let Mason grab onto his finger. Sansa looked over at Robb and Talisa with their eyes shut gently and slowly rising chests. How could anyone fall asleep that fast? She guessed a baby would do that to you. Jon started to rock and Sansa asked, “Hey, would you want to go shop tomorrow? With me?” Jon jerked up and looked at her confused.

 

“Um, for Mason. Get some clothes and stuff.” Sansa shrugged and cleared her throat, “You could come see my apartment. You never got a chance to see before…” She trailed off and scratched at her neck, a blush rising to her cheeks. She felt completely silly and had no real rhyme or reason to hang out with him. But she knew she wanted to anyhow.

 

Jon looked back to Mason and nodded, “Yeah. I already got him a stuffed dog thing. But yeah, I’ll go with you.” He looked up at her and smiled that same bittersweet smile from Thanksgiving two weeks ago. The one that made her want a cigarette, the one that made him look like a new Jon.

 

“Great. Um, I’ll text you?” Sansa motioned to his phone in his pocket and he nodded, “Yeah, just text me.”

 

A soft knock hit the wooden door right next to them, and they both looked up expecting a nurse. But Loras Tyrell stood with a bouquet of flowers and a broad smile, “Hey San,” His whisper was just a little too loud.

 

“Shh, they’re all sleeping.” Sansa stepped over to kiss his cheek. “These are beautiful. Talisa will love them. You are so thoughtful.” They beamed at each other for a moment. She had completely forgotten his interest in coming to meet the baby. He’d even asked about Talisa when they went out the other night. Sansa had texted him this morning to let him know she was headed to the hospital later today.

 

“Is that Mason?” Loras looked over Sansa’s shoulder to Jon holding onto the sleeping baby.

 

“Yeah.” Jon didn’t look up at him, even when Loras greeted him. Sansa shifted uncomfortably, it suddenly was unbearably weird between the three of them. Especially since Talisa and Robb were knocked out on the bed behind them. She looked over to him and grabbed his hand, “Let’s go meet up with my family. We’ll come back in a bit.”

 

“Sounds good babe, lead the way.” Loras gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

 

Sansa didn’t miss the way Jon rolled his eyes and stifled her laugh as she pulled Loras from the room.

 

**xxxxx**

 

Bags overflowing with baby gifts rested on top of Sansa’s counters. The apartment was scrubbed clean last night, and looked spotless during the quick tour she’d just given Jon. Shopping had been pretty uneventful, but in the right kind of way. There hadn’t been any awkward silences, which was all that Sansa had really been hoping for. Jon helped her pick out the onesies about being the favorite and ones that said “my aunt rocks.” They pulled out all the stops, and she even debated making a Build-a-Bear for Mason. But Jon had vetoed that idea and said he’d rather do anything but stomp around and kiss a little red heart that goes inside an overpriced bear. Sansa settled on getting Mason a stuffed little lion to match his first baby blanket.

 

Sansa sipped on her glass of chardonnay and watched Jon look around her kitchen. His face was rather blank, but then again, it sort of always was. It was impossible to tell what he thought about all this.

 

When they’d gotten back to her place a few minutes ago she had poured herself a glass of wine to relax from all the shopping. When she offered Jon anything to drink he politely turned down the beer and gratefully accepted a glass of water. That prompted him filling her in on AA and quitting drinking all together. Jon said he hadn’t had any alcohol in almost two years, but not before reaching his rock bottom. He’d almost lost his job at Castle Black when Ygritte became engaged to Tormund.

 

“Would you ever move back home?” Sansa took a small sip and watched him weigh his answer. Jon looked nonchalant as he shrugged, “Yeah, actually I’m going to after this semester.”

 

Sansa almost choked. “What? I thought you loved it up there.”

 

“I do, but I got a better job for the paper here. I’d rather be back at Winterfell U anyways, it suits me better. I think.” Jon gazed around her apartment, “This looks really great Sansa.”

 

“Thanks,” Sansa finished her wine and cleared her throat, “I’ve come a long way.”

 

Jon smiled widely, “You have. I’m proud of you.”

 

“Thanks. You seem different.” Sansa boldly claimed.

 

“I am, I’m a lot different.” Jon sighed, “Life will do that. You’re a lot different too.”

 

“It’s not fair to compare me to when I was a teenager and when my husband had just died,” Sansa rolled her eyes and gave a small smile, “But I suppose the same goes for you.”

 

“We got dealt some shitty hands.” Jon nodded and smiled and tilted his glass around the room, “But look at you. New place, new business, friends, _and_ a new boyfriend.”

 

Sansa looked at him, “Boyfriend?”

 

“Loras?” Jon pulled out a pack of spearmint gum and popped it into his mouth, chewing on it slightly.

 

Sansa swallowed and bit her lip. It was a weird gray area, the two of them; both with Jon and her and her and Loras. The one thing Sansa knew was that Loras was _not_ her boyfriend. They hung out, and went to family events, and had casual sex if the opportunity arose. It was someone to pass the time with. A warm body in her bed. At the same time, he listened to her and was always there. He was nothing but patient and understanding, and always respected her space. Plus, he was kind and it didn’t hurt that he was insanely handsome.

 

But Loras didn’t even have a toothbrush at her place, and when Sansa looked around her apartment there really wasn’t any sign of him anywhere. Jon had purposefully brought him up to pry, and Sansa almost applauded. Although, she shouldn’t have been so surprised or caught off guard. He had always been the one to grill her with no fear even back when nobody in her family had the guts to bring up anything that might upset her.

 

“Loras isn’t my boyfriend.” Sansa messed with the empty wine glass before her and wished she could will it to fill itself.

 

“That’s not what he told me.” Jon blew a bubble and popped it loudly.

 

Sansa narrowed her eyes. When had he and Loras even been alone together? The memories of Thanksgiving flashed through her mind, but they were all mostly outshined by the fact that Arya and Bran had kicked everyone’s ass at Monopoly. That night had been filled with lots of wine for Sansa as she tried to keep up with Arya. They had placed a bet for who could drink the most and go the longest without cursing in front of their parents. Sansa had won against Arya easily, but the price had been a pretty awful hangover.

 

So when would Loras have said anything to Jon Snow about their relationship? Sansa hadn’t really clarified what Loras was to her on the back porch, but that was only because her and Jon hadn’t been alone together in years. She didn’t really want to spend that time talking about Loras.

 

“Well, he’s not.” Sansa stood and got the bottle of wine from her counter and brought it back over to the kitchen table where Jon sat smugly.

  
“He’s not!” Sansa felt like a whiny teenager defending herself. Jon only snickered and shook his head, “Oh Loras was sure to tell me that you were his.”

 

“What on earth are you talking about?” Sansa poured her chardonnay and avoided eye contact.

 

“Oh my god!” Jon laughed dryly, “He was all over you during dinner and Monopoly. His arm was around you or touching your ass and all while shooting me dirty looks.”

 

“You have got to be imagining that. That is complete bullshit.” Sansa took a sip and challenged him on his make believe theory. There was no way that Loras Tyrell had it in him to be a possessive asshole. But Jon shrugged dismissively, “I’m telling you Sansa. He came up to me after we came back inside for the game night and he told me loud and clear to fuck off and that you guys were together. Then he said we were awfully close for a brother and sister.”

 

Sansa scrunched her nose at both the idea of Loras being threatening and the sibling reference. Jon had not kissed Sansa like a sister, and right now she was not looking at him like a sister looks at a brother. He shifted under her gaze, he clearly felt the same way about how she was watching him. The wine was obviously catching up to her. A warm confident smile crossed her face as she gathered some liquid courage. “Loras Tyrell can barely get it up and you are _not_ my brother.”

 

Jon rolled his eyes and laughed under his breath as he clutched his glass of water, “You most certainly are not my sister.”

 

“What exactly he say to you?” Sansa took a long sip and very deliberately kept her eyes on Jon as she did such. Jon licked his lips, “Sansa is my girlfriend and I don’t know what you two did on that porch or all those years ago but you are a little too close to be brother and sister.”

 

“Good thing I’m not.” Sansa pushed her wine glass around, tension building in her chest.

 

“Good thing,” Jon watched her leg bouncing under the table and smirked at her. He opened his mouth to say something just as his cell phone buzzed. “Is that your girlfriend?” Sansa teased, raising an eyebrow.

 

Jon gave her a pointed look before reading his text and looking back to her, “Gotta get home to my girl.”

 

Sansa awkwardly jolted up from her seat and nodded, “Oh, okay, sure. I’ll see you this weekend? You’re coming back to see Mason again, right?” Everything in her just deflated. She was just beginning to really have fun, too.

 

Jon laughed as he gathered his jacket and bags from Toys ‘R Us, “Yeah I’ll be back.”

 

Sansa sulked as she lead him to the doorway, trying to think of a reason to get him to stick around. But truthfully, there was none. There really wasn’t even a reason for them to even be together right now, but Sansa still wanted to anyways. There was something new about him that made her want to stick around.

 

As she pulled her front door open and stepped aside, Jon placed a hand on her shoulder. “It was nice hanging out with you today. I like your place.” He looked around and Sansa nodded in response, “Yeah. Nice seeing you.”

 

“Sansa,” Jon removed his hand and stepped into the doorway.

 

“Yes?” Her breath caught in her throat just from the way his dark eyes were looking at her.

 

“It’s a dog.” Jon held up his phone, “I have to get home to my dog.”

 

Sansa bit back a smile as he threw up a wave and shut her door.

 

Just a dog.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tempted to do a Jon POV chapter. Thoughts? (Also if I have typos and crap I'm sorry. Help a girl out and let me know, I'll fix them :))


	14. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon's POV

# Chapter Fourteen: Home

* * *

 

Alys hummed happily as she played with the fluff of puppy spinning around his empty living room. Jon had to step through the minefield of boxes, Alys, the puppy, and his grown husky Ghost. “Jesus Al, do you mind?” He huffed as he balanced two boxes and attempted to step over her sprawled out body.

 

Alys giggled as she pulled the puppy onto her stomach and smiled at him, “You were so nice to do all the responsible stuff when I gave this puppy to you. I'm going to miss playing with her.” She fluffed out the small gray puppy’s fur and Jon stacked up the boxes by the door. “You can always have her back.” Jon crossed his arms. 

 

Alys Karstark was an absolute hurricane of a human being. Emotionally distant yet extremely intense, when she had an opinion about something, she would definitely let you know. She was the kind of girl to impulsively adopt a puppy and have every intention of giving it a loving home, without actually thinking through the logistics part. Like how Alys would leave for days at a time and worked odd, long hours. So she passed it along to him right before Robb called him about Mason. Jon was also a sucker for a cute puppy. 

 

When Jon had first moved up to Castle Black he’d been a lone wolf. It had been an impulse to make the jump and follow hopelessly after his ex. Castle Black had been cold, bleak, and completely foreign upon arriving.

 

Jon got a small little shack of a house in a neighborhood full of the same. Castle Black was covered in snow for at least 10 out of the 12 months in the year, and all Jon had brought up was a thick winter coat. He’d been around for about a month when a particularly merciless snowfall came that buried his car in about two feet of snow. It was a test day for his students and he had to cancel because he had to shovel and wipe everything off without a decent shovel and no gloves. Alys Karstark had been watching the entire debacle from her house across the street, much to Jon’s surprise and embarrassment.

 

There was something about the way she laughed that reminded him of someone he couldn’t put a finger on. She had let him borrow gloves and gifted him a bag of ice melt. When he said he was from Winterfell, Alys fell into another fit of giggles and couldn’t believe he’d been so ill prepared.

 

It really was just that Jon couldn't bring himself care. He opened his eyes each morning, went through the motions, and then closed his eyes to go to sleep. Alys Karstark taught him how to cook homemade lasagna and helped him hang his curtains. When Jon would drunkenly tell her he loved her, she’d playfully smack his shoulder and tell him he didn’t love anyone or anything until he quit drinking. Alys didn’t say a word when he’d come over drunk and pass out fully clothed next to her. She also didn’t say a word when he quit.

 

Alys dated other men and women. She’d randomly pop over to Jon’s and bring him a tray of cupcakes just as easily as she would come to cry about what was on the news. Alys was _alive_ and everything that Jon needed after the dismal affair that was his life. The thing he admired most about Alys was her unapologetic attitude; there was nothing she did half assed. Granted, she rarely followed through and did something. Commitment was not a strong suit. 

 

She would cry to him and listen to him and fuck him all at the drop of a hat. Everything between them was pleasantly simple and straightforward. Jon didn’t need to be in a relationship, what he needed was friendship, and the sex was just a perk of that. They weren’t in love and never could be. Alys was a wild card and a free bird, and Jon felt sorry for anyone who tried to pin her down.

 

Things were easy with Alys, but Jon needed some male companionship, and that came from his new best friend Sam. Sam was a portly man who was never anything but kind. He made Jon laugh and he and his wife Gilly would invite him over for dinner. Sam was the one who finally forced him into AA and even attended several meetings with him at the beginning. Sam Tarly was the best kind of person.

 

Jon stared wistfully at Alys on his floor and the puppy running in circles and felt a pang of sadness. He’d been so sure of moving back home that it never occurred to him that he might actually miss it up here. Sam had already been by last night to say goodbye. He gave him a small potted plant and they toasted to new beginnings over glasses of ice water. They promised each other to visit and Sam even debated checking out Winterfell University for employment. Jon wasn't sure how crazy Gilly would be about all that, but it was a nice thought.

 

Alys’ waves of brown hair messily laid across the wood flooring as she pet Ghost who was snuggled up closely to her. He licked at her cheek and Alys pet him lovingly in return.

 

“I’ll miss you.” Jon said earnestly.

 

Alys looked up at him confused, “Don’t worry, not for long.”

 

“Not true.” Jon owed her a lot. The girl who taught him how to forgive, move on, and program DVR. Alys cried in his pillows just as he cried in hers. She became a confidant and there was something so final in leaving her behind in Castle Black.

 

Alys sat up quickly and shook her head, “No way. You’re going back where you belong. You’ll be happier further south, and there will be way less snow to shovel.” She picked at the white fur on her sweater and grinned. “I think I’m going to get going. Do you need anything else?”

 

“Will you visit me?” Jon watched her rise to her feet.

 

“Will _you_ visit _me_?” Alys eyed him.

 

“Fair enough.” Jon dropped his crossed arms and kissed her one last time, her blue grey eyes smiling back at him as he pulled away. “You’re a good friend.”

 

A wry smile crossed her lips, “Yeah, yeah. Go home Jon Snow.” Alys placed a gentle kiss on his nose and was out the door. Out of his home, out of his life, and it felt so final and bittersweet.

 

But it was time to go home.

 

**xxxxx**

 

Jon was set to head back to Winterfell, his U-Haul packed, car jammed with the dogs and miscellaneous belongings. All he needed was some coffee and to top off his gas for the upcoming 5 hour drive.

 

The worn out and beaten up 7-Eleven’s lights flickered ominously as he pulled in to the pump. Jon headed inside for his caffeine and impulsively picked up an apple fritter. As he bit off a big bite of the pastry he heard a sudden and sharp gasp, “Jon?”

 

Ygritte.

 

Her hair was freshly chopped short and had a black beanie on top. The skin of her face was bright and soft looking, though pink from the cold. She held a cup of coffee and an apple, and Jon self-consciously dropped his apple fritter from his mouth.

 

When Jon first moved up here, it’d been painfully obvious it was for her, despite his pointless insisting and denying that it wasn’t. All of the Starks, his co-workers, and students begged him not to leave. Robb even got angry and didn’t talk to him for a week or so. They’d all been right of course. Following a taken ex-girlfriend hours away to an unknown place had not been the smartest decision. Ultimately though, once Robb helped him move up, he said if it made Jon happy and helped him find whatever it was he was looking for, Robb would have his back.

 

And Robb made good on his promise, but he didn’t really get that it was more than just following Ygritte. It also had everything to do with Winterfell, the dead baby, Sansa’s dead husband, and Sansa Stark. The last place Jon had wanted to be was Winterfell. And maybe if he followed Ygritte and proved himself, he’d be good enough for another shot. Maybe if he tried hard enough it could all work. At the time Jon was desperate, lost, rejected, and completely heartbroken. A change of location seemed right.

 

It took a month after moving in before he finally broke down and showed up at Ygritte’s place absolutely plastered. He stumbled from his car to her door and pounded on it, demanding answers. Ygritte had ignored him at the new staff orientation, didn’t look at him on campus, and didn't return a single phone call or text since Robb’s wedding.

 

“ _You are a bitch_.” Jon had slurred as soon as her frame appeared in the doorway.

 

Tormund had loomed behind Ygritte, but rolled his eyes in annoyance. Ygritte could handle Jon’s drunken state alone. Jon had been decidedly pissed at the dismissal of his arrival. And so he stormed in and demanded Tormund fight him.

 

“ _Jon, you’re drunk_.” Ygritte begged.

 

Tormund had looked so sad for him, and Jon landed a solid punch to his right cheek to prove he could still hold his own. That he was literally, phsyically, and drunkenly going to fight for Ygritte's love. Tormund barely batted an eyelash. “ _Come on, man. Let us call you a cab or something_.”

 

Jon shoved him.

 

Tormund then cocked his fist back and knocked his lights out. Hours after blacking out on their floor he woke on Ygritte’s couch. There she sat; right beside him in a red lazy boy armchair. She looked at him with tear-stained cheeks and begged him to leave her alone. Begged for him to let her be happy. “ _You’ve got to let me go. You have to let me let you go. You_ have _to do that for me_.”

 

Jon promised to change. To get sober, to work harder, to be anything she wanted him to be, but Ygritte defiantly shook her head. “ _It’s too late. We’re ruined. Somewhere along the way we messed this up and it isn't meant to be fixed. We are what we are. But we’ve been over for a very, very long time_.”

 

Jon refused to believe it. And with a mix of adrenaline, leftover alcohol, and emotion of talking to her for the first time in months, he kissed her. Ygritte allowed it for a moment before tearing herself away. “ _Do you kiss Sansa like that_?”

 

It shook Jon to his core. How dare she bring her up, what the hell did Ygritte know about that? He had furrowed his eyebrows at her and withdrew like she had slapped him.

 

“ _Be better Jon, for yourself first, then for her. We deserve to be happy after what we’ve been through_.” Ygritte looked off into the distance.

 

Jon drove drunkenly home and sobbed the entire way. Because Ygritte wasn’t coming back to him, Sansa was hours away and didn’t want anything to do with him, and he didn’t deserve anybody.

 

What he did deserve was a dog. And that was how Ghost came to be, with his white fur and quiet paws. Ghost lie with Jon in bed every night no matter what. No matter if he was happy, sad, drunk, tired, he was never lonely. So Jon poured his heart into teaching, his dog, and his friends Sam, Gilly, and Alys. And one day, eventually, when he woke up, it wasn’t so hard to get out of bed. Until eventually he was excited to get to work and picked up reading and free writing once again.

 

Things fell into place when he began to let Ygritte go. Life came into focus when he began to learn new things and challenge himself once more. Every once in a while he’d spot Ygritte on campus, but it became easier and easier for her to just be…background noise. He changed her, at one time he had loved her, he’d always admire her, but he no longer needed or missed her. And it hurt like hell but he finally had the distance to see that it truly was what was best.

 

So when he saw Ygritte standing before him, he wanted to thank her. They were nothing like the kids they were in Winterfell; the two of them had both come a very, very long way.

 

“Is that your U-Haul?” Ygritte looked outside to the giant truck and Jon silently nodded, still in a state of disbelief.

 

“Are you leaving?” There was a tone of strained sadness in her voice.

 

“Yes.” Jon took another bite of his apple fritter.

 

“Where?” Ygritte’s eyes were wide.

 

“Home.” Jon swallowed the pastry and grabbed his cup of coffee.

 

“Good luck, Jon, with everything.” Ygritte raised her left hand in a small wave and the gleam of her engagement ring caught in the fluorescent lighting. He smiled brightly, “You too, Ygritte. Good luck with _everything_.” His eyes fell to the swell of her stomach and she wrapped a conscious hand over it.

 

It was definitely time to go home.

 

**xxxxx**

 

It’d been a long drive to say the least. The dogs were anxious and the puppy had peed in his car at least 3 times. Jon had haphazardly tried to soak it up with spare napkins, but knew she’d keep at it no matter how many times he pulled over for her. It was absolutely exhausting.

 

Not to mention he was headed to stay the night at Stark’s home. Rickon would be there since he was home from school for Christmas, but the other kids were all expected to be at their various homes throughout Winterfell. Everyone promised a helping hand in helping move into his new place and would no doubt storm the house tomorrow morning. Jon’s hands nervously tapped against his steering wheel as he pulled up and through the stretching Stark driveway.

 

His breath caught at the woman sitting on the front porch, all bundled up in a large puffy white hat with matching hat and gloves. Jon slowed to a crawl in his car and stared for as long as he could, until she eventually spotted him and shot up. The book dropped to her side as a warm smile spread, and his heart skipped a beat in spite of everything. 

 

Jon thought about their shopping trip, her new place, and the way she looked at him after all that wine. It made his mouth dry as he pulled his keys from the ignition. Sansa jogged up to his driver side door and pulled him in for an excited hug. Jon tentatively wrapped his arms around her and ignored the large puffball on top of her hat that was currently stabbing his eyeball, because she was so warm and smelled just like vanilla.

 

Sansa pulled back, embarrassed, and bit her lip as a flush rose to her cheeks, “Hi!”

 

“Hey,” Jon smiled and fought the urge to hug her again.

 

Then the dogs busted out, Ghost almost toppled Sansa over. She squealed as she gained her balance and wrapped her arms around him tightly, “Ghost! Sorry! Sorry,” Jon reached for the dog who was lapping all over her face, “Down boy!”

 

Then his little puppy sat quietly at his feet, patiently waiting to get noticed. She was already used to Ghost getting the first round of attention and knew to wait for Jon to calm him down anytime there was a new person. Sansa laughed as she pet Ghost and squealed once more as soon as she noticed the puppy, “Oh my god! Who is this?!”

 

“This is a puppy given to me by a friend. She’s the reason I had to leave your place last month.” Jon picked her up and gave her a little squeeze. Sansa reached her arms out, “Let me see!”

 

Jon huffed a laugh as he passed her the puppy and watched how her eyes lit up. Ghost pawed at Jon’s thigh out of jealousy, and Jon bent down to give him some attention. Sansa held the puppy close and almost cooed. “She is so sweet! Aren’t you little lady?”

 

Sansa pressed her nose up against the puppy’s, “What’s her name?”

 

“I never really gave her one. I’ve just been calling her puppy and girl.” Jon shrugged and scratched at his hair. Alys had named her Feather or Wind or some weird something like that, but nothing stuck.

 

“She is such a little lady.” Sansa pet her and held her closely, “That’s what you should name her.” A lightbulb went off as Sansa looked at Jon and smiled.

 

“Lady?” Jon raised an eyebrow.

 

“She’s so little and polite! A little lady!” Sansa was almost childlike in her happiness; it made Jon want to do anything to keep it going. So he nodded and smiled along with her, “Yeah, sure. Lady.” He took a step closer and pet Lady with Sansa.

 

After a moment Sansa looked up at him, “You look good.”

 

“I feel good.” Jon smiled back at her and rubbed Lady’s fur one more time.

 

“Let’s go inside! Rickon got a new game he wants to show you and Dad wants to watch Jason Bourne. Mom is making sloppy joes!” Sansa beamed and began to walk towards her home.

 

Jon peered up at the Stark’s place and felt a familiar swell and flutter in his chest. He looked back to Sansa carrying Lady and called for Ghost to follow him inside.

 

He was home.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please tell me what you think!! Also, let me know if you ever want another Jon POV chapter. It was incredibly difficult and fun.


	15. Cake by the Lake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! I hope this long chapter makes up for the wait.

# Chapter Fifteen: Cake by the Lake

* * *

 

_Jon is back_.

 

 

The thought swam in Sansa’s head ever since she’d met up with him at her parents. Jon Snow was back in Winterfell and only minutes away from her place. He shouldn’t have crossed her mind as much as he did. But as she laced up her sneakers to go for her early morning jog, she couldn’t help but wonder what he was doing. If he liked the paper he started working for or if he had read a good book lately.

 

  
Sansa had read several since he left. Maybe it wouldn’t be too weird if she shot him a text when she got back home?

 

 

Her feet picked up the pace as soon as she left her apartment parking lot and headed to the nearby sidewalk that lead to a close park. It was the perfect start to her long days and often the only time she used to mull over everything. Because when Harry crossed her mind she could always run faster. If she thought about his opinion on things or what he’d say if he heard the way a client had barked out demands at her like some dog. Would Harry like Loras? What would he think about all of this? About her place and her business and the way Jon Snow popped up in her mind before she took off running.

 

 

As she made her way down the pavement a presence slowed her. Sansa suspiciously yanked her headphone from her ear, ready to bust out a can of whoop ass, when a familiar black car slowed beside her. She was on the sidewalk by the main road, and stopped herself to look into Jon’s rolled down window.

 

 

“Hey.” Jon sounded breathless but he wasn’t the one who had been running.

 

 

“Hi.” Sansa looked around his car for his dogs or a girl or something that would be easy to ask about or give her an idea of what to say. Her tongue was absolutely tied as she watched his scratch at his morning scruff, “I didn’t know you ran.”

 

 

“I do.” Sansa nodded towards her workout get up.

 

 

“I do too.” Jon motioned to his sweaty t-shirt and gym shorts before scratching at the back of his neck. Was he…embarrassed?

 

 

“Want to jog with me sometime?” Sansa watched his face freeze and eyes go wide. She couldn’t believe she had asked him either. After a beat she opened her mouth to play it off, to not seem so awkward and needy. There was this strangeness between them. This push and pull that neither of them have put a finger on. Did they need each other like they had before? Did they even need each other at all? The questions spun in her head so fast she missed what Jon had said.

 

 

“What?”

 

 

“I said-“ A loud honk from a car stopped behind him, squealing tires, and an agry man waving and flipping them off drove around Jon’s car. The two shared a look of disbelief and shock. Sansa let out a loud laugh, tossing her head back, and letting the tears gather in her eyes. What an utter asshole.

 

 

After a moment of their laughter tangling and settling, Jon rubbed at his eyes and smiled, “I said yeah. I’ll text you.”

 

 

“You still have my number?” Sansa asked.

 

 

“Of course. We just went to get Mason that baby stuff, remember?” Jon held his phone up and gave it a little wave, “I got to go shower before work. Don’t want to be late.”

 

 

“Oh, yeah. Good luck!” Sansa backed away from his car and watched him pull off in a hurry as another car began to pull close to them. She pulled her hand up to give him a wave, and she swore she saw him smiling into his rearview mirror.

 

Sansa ran her fastest mile that morning.

 

**xxxxx**

 

“This is where you usually run?” Sansa looked around the quarry overlooking a completely clear pool of lake water. It was breathtaking, magical even, and she’d never even heard of the place in all her years of living here. “How did you find this place?”

 

 

Jon’s face reddened and Sansa quickly looked away from him and back to the water. Whenever Jon got quiet like that it had something to do with Ygritte. Two weeks ago when they were eating Sloppy Joe’s at her parents, Ned asked about how he found some Greek restaurant in Wintertown, his face turned the same shade of crimson it was right now. Sansa had a feeling Ygritte wasn’t as off limits as she was the night they sat on her front porch, but Jon wouldn’t willingly put forward information about her or their past if he wasn’t prodded. Sansa didn’t want to prod about that anymore.

 

 

The chill in the air was borderline unbearable, even in all her layers. Sansa just wanted to run. “It’s still a nice place.” Jon cleared his throat and then reached down to begin stretching. Sansa began to jump from foot to foot in a lame attempt to warm up. Never once had she really stretched and thought of it as actual exercise. Running was just an outlet, something that busied her, something that kept her legs running as fast as her ceaseless mind. She never really took it all that seriously and didn’t really keep track of how far or how fast normally.

 

 

Jon looked so professional with his hair pulled into a low bun, black running tights beneath his Nike shorts, a thin, gray fleece and earmuffs with matching gloves. He practically looked like a regular New York Marathon runner. When did he even start running?

 

 

Sansa wore an old, worn white turtleneck underneath an oversized Winterfell U t-shirt from her dad or brother, a black hat that made her practically look like an egg, and running tights. Well, leggings, but saying running tights in her head made her feel more legit. More on Jon’s level as he stretched his quads and calves. “You ready?”

 

 

“How much do run?” Sansa had never thought to ask him that during their short text conversation. They’d only set up a time and place, not a distance or a goal. Sansa only ran about 3-4 miles a day, tops.

 

 

“Usually around 7,” Jon shrugged so nonchalantly Sansa almost wanted to hit him, 7 miles?! Jon’s eyes went wide, “Why? Too much?”

 

 

“I do like 3! What the hell!” Sansa exclaimed and eyed him up and down, “7 Miles! _A day_!”

 

 

Jon laughed and shrugged, “I bet you could do it if you wanted.”

 

 

Sansa opened her mouth and closed it. She never really had before. “Try. If it sucks you can always stop.” Jon stretched his arms high above his head and gave her a kind smile. It looked like the one he’d give her in the coffee shop and made her feel a tinge of sadness and regret. The same question dancing across her mind. What was this? What did it mean?

 

 

Did it really matter?

 

 

Jon took off running and Sansa hopped to a start, taking long strides to catch up with his head start. When she ran she felt Harry and saw Jon and felt like she could go another two miles when they hit five.

 

 

She had a feeling Harry would like her and Jon running.

 

**xxxx**

 

A week later Sansa and Jon were regularly running 8 miles a morning around the water. It made Sansa excited to get out of bed to challenge herself and get to run through the beautiful spot. They’d just begun running through the naked winter woods. Dead leaves would blow off the beaten path as they dashed through the trees. Jon was much faster, but he stuck around to help lead the way.

 

 

When they made their way back to the opening by their cars, Sansa bent over to rest her hands on her knees, gasping for air. Clouds of her breath floated away from her and the cold air had bitten her cheeks and nose bright pink. They’d been out for about 45 minutes and the sun still had not risen. It was absolutely freezing outside.

 

 

“You alright?” Jon asked in between his deep breaths.

 

 

Sansa nodded and rose to stand up straight, “I want to run a 10K.”

 

 

“Okay.” Jon nodded and rubbed at his runny nose, “You want to run a marathon with me?”

 

 

“A marathon?!” Sansa exclaimed but her shock quickly melted away. Just a month ago she had thought 7 miles was impossible, but here she stood. Her limbs on fire and her heart pounding through her chest. It was marvelous.

 

 

“You can do it.” Jon smiled as he stretched his legs.

 

 

“If you do it too.” Sansa eyed him and mimicked his stretch.

 

 

“Okay. Sign me up.” Jon laughed under his breath and shivered, “God it’s freezing.”

 

 

“We’re going to get sick.” Sansa wiped at her own snotty nose.

 

 

“Worth it.” Jon shook out his limbs and bounced. “Are you excited for Mason’s baptism?”

 

 

“I guess so. It’ll be nice to have everyone together.” Sansa shrugs. In truth she was sort of dreading it. She and Jon would have to go back up on the altar where Talisa and Robb had married and where Jon left to follow Ygritte North.

 

 

“Is Loras coming?” It was a simple enough question.

 

 

“I didn’t invite him yet.” Sansa squinted as the sun peaked through the overcast morning sky.

 

 

“Why not?”

 

 

“I just haven’t.”

 

 

Jon nodded and put his hands on his hips, “Okay. Well I gotta get home to shower and all.”

 

 

“Why are you worried about it?” Sansa scowled.

 

 

“You just haven’t talked about him is all,”

 

 

She really hadn’t. When they had finished running they'd made a habit of talking music, TV shows, and work before they’d return to their cars and homes and lives. To be fair, there hadn’t really been a reason to bring him up.

 

 

“I’m not going to date him.” Sansa blurted out.

 

 

Jon dropped his hands from his hips and nodded, “Okay, sounds good. Whatever-“

 

 

“ _Whatever makes me happy_.” Sansa finished for him and Jon laughed under his breath. “Sorry, predictable.”

 

 

“Yeah well, I’ve heard it before.” Sansa sighed when she thought about the voice Loras used to whisper the very same in her ear before falling asleep by her side.

 

 

“Jon?” He stilled his breathing to look at her, “Do you think I’m a horrible person?” Sansa asked because the sun was rising and because Jon had never sugar coated a thing for her.

 

 

He looked at her in bewilderment and didn’t hesitate for a second, “No.”

 

 

Suddenly, tears threatened to pool in her eyes, but she swallowed. “Loras doesn’t deserve this.”

 

 

“Then let him go.” Jon looked to the water then back to her, “Using people never works out for anyone. I would know.”

 

 

Loras loved her. That was why he came over on the lonely nights. Why he would bring her lunch to work or surprise her at home with a Redbox movie. Loras thought of her during his workdays, while Sansa was constantly forgetting they even set up a time to hang out.

 

 

“Going to Winterfell made me let Ygritte go.” Jon watched her, “Made me let _you_ go.”

 

 

Sansa didn’t say anything for a moment to just let his words sink in. She knew exactly what he meant. When he moved away Sansa had to learn to really, truly, be by herself. How to function and what she liked and disliked and how to chase a dream while standing on her own two legs. Sansa started her design studio and rekindled her friendship with Margaery. She had to let him go, whatever he had been, to become herself. Losing Harry made her find him once again, learn to love him in a different light. Jon leaving was the best thing that happened to her since Harry passing. And Jon never seemed like himself until now.

 

 

This man who stood beside her with rosy cheeks and chattering teeth was not the guy who yelled at her or kissed her at her brother’s wedding. Jon Snow ran and had dogs and wrote for the newspaper.

 

 

“We’ve got to get going.” Jon looked down at his Apple watch and then motioned for her to follow him back up the trail to their cars.

 

**xxxxx**

 

The church was jammed packed with anyone who had so much as seen the Starks in the grocery store one time. Little Mason Stark was getting baptized in the church his parents were married in. It was like the most perfect, cliché, and beautiful story you could imagine. Talisa and Robb shared knowing and loving looks between each other throughout the entire ceremony. Each gurgle and squeal from their baby made them giddy with pride and complete happiness.

 

 

Sansa and Jon flanked their sides looking closely as the Pastor sprinkled the baby with the baptismal water and said the holy words. Sansa didn’t remember much about church, it’d been a long time since she’d regularly attended. Definitely not since Harry had died. But with all of the congregation looking upon them and promising their guidance and blessings to her little nephew, for the first time in a long time, Sansa missed it.

 

 

Sansa stood with her brother, her sister in law, her nephew, and Jon Snow on the altar with the pastor. Each of them held a candle and recited their promises to raise little Mason in the church with God as his lord and Jesus his savior. Words that had long lost meaning to Sansa now felt rich and fulfilling. Robb passed the baby into her arms and beamed at her, she was officially being made a godmother.

 

 

Jon took a step and stood beside her and did as he was told, placing a hand onto the little boy’s head. Together they promised to guide and protect him, to always be there, to help him in times of need, and to help his parents until their very last breath and afterwards. Tears pricked her eyes as the love in the room threatened to make her burst. Holding her sweet nephew made Sansa feel so full. She looked over to a teary eyed Jon and gave a big smile, “Godfather,” She mouthed and Jon whispered, “Are you talking to me,” And puffed an imaginary cigar.

 

 

“That’s Scarface.” Sansa snickered and watched Jon’s face pink in embarrassment. He made a face as the Pastor grabbed Mason to walk him around and show off to the congregation. “Close enough.” Robb laughed and descended down the steps with his wife in tow.

 

 

As the family gathered up in the fellowship hall of the church, Sansa went to Jon’s side. “That was pretty cool.”

 

 

“Yeah it was. I can’t tell you the last time I’ve been to church though.” Jon gritted his teeth and pulled at the neck hole of his collared shirt in mock awkwardness. Sansa bit her lip to hide her smile and nodded along, “Same.”

 

 

“You brought Loras.” Jon stated as he looked at the crowd gathering for the free food. Robb and Talisa got subs and cookies catered to the church for the celebration. Sansa had asked him last minute last night when he came over with Chinese take out. They slurped their lo mein and talked about her business and his sister, it had come out as just kind of a courtesy thing after he spotted the invite on her fridge. She never thought he’d actually show.

 

 

“Yeah, I did.”

 

 

“Is it good that he came?” Jon looked down at his watch like he had somewhere else to be.

 

 

Sansa furrowed her eyebrows and looked him up and down.

 

 

Jon opened his mouth and shut it, then did it once more. Like he was wrestling with the right words to say.

 

 

They’d been down this path before. Lashing out and apologizing and chasing words they wanted to say but never had the nerve to do so. But this wasn’t three years ago, and what Jon had just said pissed her off. So instead of taking the easy way out and storming away, Sansa crossed her arms and waited for him to gather himself.

 

 

“I just thought you were going to end things. It’s kind of serious to invite him to a family thing like this. It’s boyfriend stuff.” Jon looked at her.

 

 

“He isn’t my boyfriend.” Sansa defended automatically. The label game was really killing her.

 

 

“He seems like a boyfriend,” Jon nodded behind her, where Loras suddenly showed, his arm slinging around her shoulders as he leaned in to chastely kiss her cheek, “Hey fairy godmother.”

 

 

“Hi,” Sansa felt uncomfortable in his grip.

 

 

“Hey Jon.” Loras should have stuck a hand out but the two just looked at each other in a silent battle of who would break first.

 

 

Sansa was the one to do it by looking up at him and asking where her mom was.

 

 

“She’s over by the cake. You ready to go? The subs are already getting picked over and I figured we could grab a bite before you start up your proposal for work.” Loras looked at Sansa so sweetly she felt so guilty she had to pull away. But she gave him a sympathetic and reassuring squeeze on the hand and nodded, “Sure. I’ll meet you in a few just let me say bye to my family.”

 

 

“Yeah, sure.” Loras planted another kiss on her before beginning to push through the masses. Sansa looked over at Jon and didn’t fight to hide the blush crawling across her cheeks. “I didn’t know he’d actually come when I invited him.”

 

 

“Poor guy,” Jon clicked his tongue, “He really likes you.”

 

 

“I know that.”

 

 

“I was just saying.” Jon shrugged. Sansa narrowed her eyes, “So what?”

 

 

“I’m just noting that the guy you’ve been hanging around for months likes you. That’s all.”

 

 

“Well, I know that, I said I know that.” Sansa was practically stomping her foot.

 

 

“Okay.”

 

 

“Why does it matter to you anyways!” Sansa eyed him impatiently.

 

 

“I think he loves you.”

 

 

That made Sansa freeze, her eyes widened before she had a chance to even think about playing it cool.

 

 

“Do you love him?” Jon looked around the room once more then back to her, “You don’t have to answer that. Sorry.”

 

 

“I don’t think so.” Sansa answered anyways.

 

 

“You’re allowed to if you want to.” Jon looked to his feet, “Not that you’re asking me permission. I just…you should be with someone who makes you happy.”

 

 

“I am happy.” It wasn’t a lie. Sansa was successful, busy, and totally at peace. She ran with Jon in the mornings, drank coffee with Margaery as they planned their designs, talked to her sister daily, and went to visit her nephew twice a week. She went to Rickon’s hockey games with her mom whenever possible and got lunch with her Dad at least once a week. Things were great. She was _happy_ dammit.

 

 

“I can tell.” Jon smiled at her and her heart lodged in her throat, because even sullen, sulking Jon Snow looked happy.

 

 

“I’m happy if you’re happy.” Sansa playfully kicked at his shoe.

 

 

“Ditto.”

 

 

“Hey, you guys want cake?” Arya came over with four plates balanced on her arms and hands, “These people are wolves. I had to take what I could.” She nodded at the cake in her possession and smiled deviously. Sansa laughed as she grabbed a plate, “Thanks.”

 

 

“You guys look good. The whole godparent thing works on you.” Arya said after Jon took a plate and thanked her. She shoved a piece of cake in her mouth and looked around the busy room. Sansa looked at Jon eating his cake and gave him a smile she never got around to returning before Arya had delivered their treats. Because it felt good to be with her family, to be happy, and to know that Jon was happy too, even if there was a man waiting for her in the car that she had no idea what to do with.

 

 

Sansa reached out and grabbed Arya’s spare cake plate, “I gotta hit the road. I’ll pass this on to Loras.”

 

 

“Okay! See ya!” Arya wiggled her eyebrows like it was some sort of secret code, “A cake is a great way to ease the tension.”

 

 

“Tension?” Sansa questioned as she balanced the plates.

 

 

“Yeah, he came over here after you and Jon were….whatever. He’s a jealous boyfriend.” Arya snickered.

 

 

“He’s not my boyfriend!” Sansa insisted as Arya mouthed along her claim.

 

 

“Yeah, yeah, we know.” Arya chomped on another bite, “Don’t lead the guy on. He’s not really that great, don’t let Mom’s googoo eyes make you feel any type of way.”

 

 

Catelyn loved the idea of her daughter with another prominent name in society, especially the Tyrell’s old money name. She was quite smug when Loras walked into the church with Sansa that morning.

 

 

“Well thanks. I’ll see you guys at Rickon’s game Friday.” Sansa avoided Jon’s gaze and moved to get the hell out of there. She could practically feel Jon’s laugh building in his chest.

 

 

“Sure, yeah.” Arya nodded, “Cake helps everything!” She called as Sansa moved to go talk to Loras.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhhh I'm so happy! Let the fluff begin


	16. Club Soda

# Chapter Sixteen: Club Soda

* * *

The buzzer roars through the arena as the Starks scream and bounce, cheering on their youngest. Everyone screams for Rickon and his amazing last second shot. When the excitement begins to die down, Catelyn finally lets out a sigh of relief. “Another season with minimal injuries.” She smooths her hands over her thighs as Ned pulls her in and gently kisses her head. “He’s incredible.” Ned beams as he wraps a proud arm around her. The two of them absolutely gleamed with proud parentage, their star son looped around the ice rink with his hockey stick waving above his head.

 

 

Sansa laughed and looked over at Arya who was still screaming for their little brother. Robb gently rocked a sleeping Mason and waved at their brother when he passed, Talisa clapped along with Jon. Bran cheered in spite of himself he’d been a little mad he was missing out on going out with some friends, but in the end family always came first. Also it would’ve been pointless to try to skip out on, there’s no way their mom would’ve ever let that fly.

 

 

It’s funny how it is. You’d rather die than sit through a hockey game, a gymnastics rehearsal, or a science fair, but those are really the moments that matter most with your siblings. You never regret going, but the momentum to get there is rarely present. Sansa herself had almost been tempted to bail for some Netflix.

 

 

Robb leaned over and nudged Mason’s sleeping figure at her body, “Please. My arms are shriveling.” Sansa smiled and gathered him up in her arms; the warmth was welcome in the chill of the arena’s air.

 

 

“Are we going to get drinks, or?” Arya looked amongst her siblings.

 

 

“Rickon is going to show his face for two seconds then go out with his team.” Bran sounded a bit bitter. He was perpetually grumpy at family events when he attended without his right hand man.

 

 

“We’ve got the baby.” Robb’s bags underneath his eyes spoke for himself.

 

 

“I have the social chair planning for tomorrow,” Cat sucked on her teeth and looked at her husband, “You must go. You have to help decorate for the gala.”

 

 

Ned nodded and squeezed her, “What gala is it this time? Mosquito nets or books for the homeless?” Catelyn playfully jabs at his ribs with her elbow even as a slight smile breaks through her expression. There was always a gala for something.

 

 

“I’m going to get a drink with or without you suckers.” Arya shrugs. Sansa bounced from foot to foot looking down at little Mason and was thankful she could hand him right back and head out with her sister. “I’ll go.” Sansa smiled.

 

 

“Me too. I could use a break from editing.” Jon finally peeled his eyes away from the ice to look amongst the family who was currently staring at him wide eyed. “For a club soda, Jesus.”

 

 

Robb let out a roar of laughter entirely inappropriate, one that can only be blamed on a new baby and lack of sleep. Talisa grimaced and rubbed at her knotty hair and shook her head, “I wish we could go. Have a drink for us. Er, um, a club soda too.” She smiled at Jon who returned it with ease.

 

 

“Bran?” Cat raised an eyebrow.

 

 

“You can’t force me to be social, mother.” Bran looked down at his phone for a moment, but when everyone kept their staring eyes on him he looked back up to Catelyn’s heated glare. “I’m kidding. Kidding.” He threw up his arms, “I’ll meet you guys at the bar up the street.”

 

 

“HEY! FAMILY!” Rickon toddled on his skates as he attempted his climb of the bleachers.

 

“Rickon! NO!” Catelyn flinched as she watched her son smack his face onto the steps.

 

“Christ.” Arya hissed.

 

Rickon immediately popped back up, helmet above his head, “Shit! Oh- Sorry Mom!” He continued his climb as everyone laughed. “I shouldn’t have taken this off yet.” He motioned to his helmet before wrapping his Dad up in a hug. “Good job boy. You did great.”

 

 

“Thanks Dad.” Rickon squeezed him before getting a layer of kisses and tears from Catelyn. She was a proud, blubbering mess coming apart before him. “Oh honey, baby, you did so great! My baby boy!” Catelyn wasn’t so great at the whole subtle thing when it came to her children’s sports events.

 

 

Rickon laughed as he gently pulled away, “Thanks guys, you’re the best.”

 

 

He then turned to the masses of siblings and grinned, “Hey guys!” Then wobbled over to hug everybody and thank them for showing. “It means a lot.” Rickon almost looked…emotional? It was probably the rush of winning the playoff game and the high of being the reason for it. Having your whole family there to cheer you on must’ve felt pretty awesome. Sansa couldn’t remember the last time all the Stark kids had been in attendance for a sports event since they were young and unable to choose otherwise.

 

 

Being the baby of the family came with many, many perks but that was one short stick for Rickon. He’d had to grow up constantly trying to keep up with the rest of them, and Bran was the only one who really was around once he got old enough to actually get into some real fun.

 

 

“You did amazing.” Sansa smiled at her little brother and felt her heart swell when she looked at how bright his eyes were. He was so happy, so proud that they were all there to witness and praise him. “Thanks San.” He pulled her in for a quick hug. “Where’s Loras?”

 

 

Ah.

 

 

Everyone heard that one but pretended not to. The conversations her family had been having amongst themselves stilled so that they could listen out for her explanation. It’d been up in the air since Sunday and Sansa had skillfully kept it that way. She didn’t really feel like having her family pick apart her love life for the thousandth time.

 

 

“Couldn’t make it.” Sansa smiled and Rickon scoffed, “Did you break up with him?”

 

 

“He’s not my boyfriend!”

 

 

Everyone lets out a collaborative sigh and Arya popped her gum, “Rickon are you hanging with the team or do you wanna come to the bar up the street with us?”

 

 

Rickon looked back at Arya and gave a sad smile, “Nah we’re going over to Billy’s for beer. Delta Kappa is coming over.” He waggled his eyebrows and Robb let out another too loud cackle.

 

 

“Well be safe. Are you coming to dinner tomorrow night?” Catelyn started in on her motherly concerns while Robb and Arya closed in on Sansa.

 

 

“Where is Loras?” Arya cocked her eyebrow and Robb reached out for his son.

 

 

Sansa passed him along and shrugged, “At home, I guess.”

 

 

“Stop being so shady!” Arya put her hands on her hips, “Did you dump him or not?”

 

 

“I can’t-“

 

 

“Ok, we get it, he’s not your boyfriend. But are you still with him or not?” Robb eyed her.

 

 

“I don’t see how-“

 

 

“Oh God, whatever!”Arya threw her arms up, “Who cares. Let’s go get a drink.”

 

 

“You know that means she’s still with him.” Bran whispered to Arya from beside Sansa. She whipped around to glare at him when Jon stepped into the pow wow, “You guys ready?”

 

 

“Yes!” Sansa gave Rickon, Robb, and her parents the quickest goodbye in her history of goodbyes and practically ran out. Alcohol would certainly help this situation.

 

 

It took two drinks to get Sansa tipsy and she was working on her third currently. The bar was absolutely packed with masses of underage kids with fake IDs and too low cut tops. God, she was too old for this bar and the thought of that almost made her want to cry. Where did the time go?

 

 

It seemed like only yesterday she was taking belly shots off of her sorority sisters and making out with Harry in between beers. He’d tasted like sweat, gum, and the Coors Light he loved so much. All night he’d squeeze and kiss on her while whispering all the things he wanted to do once they left. Even though half the time they’d go home to just pass out and wake up in a haze of headaches and dehydration.

 

 

Jon yawned and checked his phone; Sansa peered over at it to check the time. It was only 9:30 and she was starting to feel it herself. God, they were _old_. Bran was chatting with a girl who looked about 20, but he still shamelessly talked her up about classes. Arya sipped on her gin and tonic and listened to one of the waiters go on about some crazy drunken story. The type of story you’d only like if you yourself were inebriated. And the way Arya was practically teetering on her barstool let Sansa know how much her little sister was enjoying the tale.

 

 

“I feel like a senior citizen right now.” Jon looked around and sipped on his club soda. “The drink doesn’t help my case.”

 

 

Sansa shrugged and sipped her cranberry vodka, “You just have yourself a glass of tonic sans gin.”

 

 

Jon scoffed and set his glass down on the bar beside her. “I gotta go to the bathroom. Be right back,”

 

 

“Gotcha. I’ll make sure no one spikes your drink.” Sansa’s joke was a tad insensitive but he didn’t seem to mind. Jon laughed as he braved the mass of college kids swarmed throughout the place.

 

 

Sansa went back to discreetly people watching and sipping on her drink. Pleasant and cheesy pop songs played over the speakers when she felt a tap on her shoulder, spinning to see none other than Renly Baratheon, a wide, warm smile on his face.

“Sansa Stark?!” He opened his arms wide for her and she collided into him with ease. She hadn’t seen Renly since senior year of college.

 

 

“What the hell are you doing here?” Renly laughed as he pulled back from their hug.

 

 

“My little brother’s on the hockey team. I’m here with my siblings but they’ve all deserted me.” Sansa waved her hand around. Now that she was standing, she could really feel the cranberry vodkas. Renly looked old, he looked happy, but he looked gray and tired. “What are you doing here?”

 

 

“Here with some friends.” Renly mimicked her dismissive hand movements and took a moment to glance around, “Where’s Harry at?”

 

 

_Oof._

 

 

Sansa opened her mouth for a moment and braced herself. She hadn’t had to do this in a while but truthfully, Father Time was still working at giving her the ability to tell people about Harry without making it feel like she was swallowing sawdust.

 

 

“What?” Renly’s warm face had fallen as he searched her face.

 

 

“He, uh,” Sansa cleared her throat and tried to force a sorry smile, “Harry died five years ago in a car accident.”

 

 

Renly’s eyes bugged as he pulled her in for a much too tight hug. “Shit.”

 

 

Sansa awkwardly patted his back and attempted to pry herself away, but Renly’s grip was relentless. “I’m so sorry.” His voice cracked and Sansa began to free herself in panic. Nope. Not here. Sansa was not going to break down in drunken tears with an old college classmate.

 

 

“Yeah, I’m sorry I had to tell you.” Sansa swallowed and looked everywhere but at him, dying for a reason to escape. Arya had disappeared and Bran was now surrounded in a group of young girls. Jon’s glass of club soda remained untouched beside her.

 

 

“No, no, I’m so sorry.” Renly sniffled and wiped at his eyes a bit. Renly and Harry hadn’t really been that close actually. Sansa remembers Renly calling Harry a spoiled bitch right before they got into a drunken fight over a game of pool. But bygones are bygones and clearly Harry’s halo affect was getting to Renly.

 

 

“S’alright.” Sansa continued to breathe to keep the tears at bay. Alcohol wasn’t helping and neither was Renly’s sudden and unwanted presence. “Um, nice to see you though.”

 

 

“Oh for sure.” Renly squeezed her shoulder, “We’ll have to meet up some other time.”

 

 

“Definitely. See you!” Sansa ducked out as quickly as possible. It was easy to disappear into a crowd of drunken kids, but not so easy to break through and get outside into the fresh air.

 

 

Sansa gasped at the change in temperature, she felt the chill seep into her bones as soon as she stepped foot onto the cement sidewalk. When they’d first arrived at the bar they had all piled their winter coats onto a table somewhere inside, and now she stood entirely inappropriately dressed for the season. She pulled at her Winterfell U t-shirt and wiped at the few tears that she couldn’t subside. Fuck.

 

 

“You alright?”

 

 

Of course.

 

 

There was no way to have a meltdown without Jon Snow somehow showing up. Sansa let out a drunken cackle and rolled her eyes at herself. History always has a way of repeating itself. Jon had been home too long for them to not run into each other after Sansa got upset or cried.

 

 

Jon Snow stood with a cigarette between his fingers and a worried look in his eyes. “You said you were going to the bathroom.” She accused.

 

 

“You said you’d watch my drink.” Jon raised an eyebrow. To which Sansa let out another dry laugh. The irony of this moment too great for her to not find humorous. Jon flicked at the cigarette and was about to toss it when Sansa stopped him, “Wait!”

 

 

Jon looked to her in surprise and paused mid-throw. “What?”

 

 

“I want a drag.” Sansa held her hand out and Jon looked her over. “I thought these were bad news.”

 

 

“Don’t be a jackass.” Sansa swiped it from his grasp as he let out a laugh, “Yes ma’am.”

 

 

Sansa pulled at the half smoked Marlboro and let the hot smoke char her throat and fill her lungs, it felt good to fill herself with something so warm in the cold night. After she let the smoke blow out and tasted the harsh flavor, she looked over at Jon watching her. “What happened?”

 

 

“I ran into Renly.” Sansa explained like he’d know who that was.

 

 

“Didn’t go well?” Jon kicked at his boots.

 

 

“He was in Harry’s frat.” Sansa took another quick drag and blew it out, “Renly didn’t know he died.”

 

 

“That’s not a very good brother.” Jon wiggled his eyebrows.

 

 

“That’s not a very good joke.” Sansa stuck his cigarette back in her mouth. Jon shook his head, “It wasn’t.”

 

 

“Do you think I’ll ever have to stop explaining to people that my husband died and Loras isn’t my boyfriend?” Sansa blew out more smoke.

 

 

“You don’t really have to explain anything if you don’t want.” Jon shrugged his shoulders dismissively because Jon Snow never answered anyone’s questions ever. Sansa herself always had to time her questions just right so that’d she’d get what she had wanted from him.

 

 

“You asked me and I answered.” Sansa eyed him. “You told me I was leading him on.”

 

 

“I told you it wasn’t nice to use people, and that’s true.” Jon snagged the cigarette from her hand and stuck it in his lips, “But I’m not the boss of you.”

 

Sansa sighed, “It’s not good to smoke. It’ll make you slower when you run.”

 

 

“You’re already faster than me,” Jon snickered as he flicked the ashes.

 

 

“I ended it with Loras. After church.” Sansa looked over at Jon who didn’t seem all that intrigued or surprised.

 

 

“Do you feel ok about it?” Jon kept his eyes on her.

 

 

“Yeah,” Sansa bit her lip and decided it was time to pour her truth, “But I don’t feel all that good about sleeping with him still.”

 

 

Jon seemed to almost deflate before her eyes as he put the dying cigarette out. “If it makes you happy Sansa, do whatever the fuck you want. I’d just be careful with your best friend’s brother.”

 

 

Sansa suddenly wondered how much her older brother Robb knew or what Jon even had explained to him. Did Robb even ask? What was there to even say really? Robb hadn’t seemed upset or annoyed at all when he brought up her running with Jon to Sansa a while ago. He seemed happy even. But somehow the words Jon just spoke sounded an awful like something Robb would say.

 

 

Sansa saw the anger flash in his eyes and wished she could take it all back. Maybe it was the vodka or the fear of messing up their freshly revived friendship, or both, but it made her reach out and grab his arm. Jon froze in shock and swallowed.

 

 

“I don’t want to say goodbye to anybody else.” Sansa tried to explain herself.

 

 

Jon searched her face and opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again, “You won’t.”

 

 

“Do you still want to go on that long run Sunday?” Jon had asked her about it Wednesday morning and she hadn’t decided on whether or not she’d free up her Saturday for a day full of Jon Snow. Mostly because she was nervous about a two-hour car ride to the mountain trail, what would they talk about for two hours? How long until they’d fight about something? She knew he’d end up asking about Loras, but now that that was out in the open, there was nothing to really lose. And if Sansa was being honest, she wanted to run on this trail with him. She wanted to run and she wanted him to ask her about Loras.

 

 

“Sure.” Jon paused and gently pulled away from her hand, “Let’s go get Bran and Arya. I’m tired and want to go home.”

 

 

“We’ve gotta stop meeting up outside of family events to smoke cigarettes and get in fights.” Sansa tried to joke.

 

 

“I’m not fighting.” Jon’s voice was barely above a whisper as he turned to head back inside.

 

 

“Okay, yeah. Sorry.” Sansa let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding and moved to follow him back inside.

 

 

“I’ll pick you up at 8.” Jon relieved her angst by looking over his shoulder as they pushed back into the bar.

 

 

A car trip with Jon Snow starting at 8 in the morning, _what could go wrong_?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this took so long to update. I'M LOST. Hahah please help meeeeee. Follow me on tumblr tayl0crow or email me at taylocrow@ yahoo . com because I am so stumped.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BACK AT IT AGAIN AFTER A MONTH. Thanks for all the help, suggestions, and patience. You guys are the best. Also: SHOUT OUT SARAH!

# Chapter Seventeen: Hornet's Nest

* * *

It’s only been about 30 minutes but Sansa is already dying to get out of the car. Between her rumbling stomach and Jon’s whiny, moaning playlist, Sansa is about to go mad. She left her banana on the counter when Jon had honked his horn for the third time that morning and she was regretting not turning around to go grab it. Sansa had figured they’d stop somewhere before taking off, but Jon was rather peeved that Sansa had made him wait 15 minutes in her parking lot.

 

So peeved that she believed he was purposefully playing this music as payback. It’d been nothing but clipped short conversations about sleep and the weather, and Sansa was struggling to come up with anything to say to a grumpy Jon Snow. His eyebrows were as creased as his downward frown and Sansa found her throat closing at the sight of him. The heat of the car and the rising sun made Sansa cozy, and she was almost tempted to just sleep through the remainder of the car ride.

 

She let her eyes grow droopy and didn’t fight to keep them open when they began to close. “Hey!” Jon’s gruff voice jolts her awake, “No sleeping!”

 

“I’m tired.” Sansa grumbles just as her stomach made itself known.

 

“Are you hungry?” Jon raises a teasing eyebrow.

 

“No.” Sansa scowls as she lay her head against the cold glass of his car window.  

 

“That’s not what I heard.” Jon drops his grumpy façade for a brief moment, or at least Sansa assumes, but by the time she drags her eyes to look at him he’s already back to his stale face.

 

“Well, you heard wrong.” Sansa crosses her arms and cuddles closer to the chill of the glass and fights her temptation to just give in and ask him to pull over. She doesn’t feel like hearing him give her grief over it. The droning song finally ends just for another guitar to start up. But Sansa bites her tongue and holds back on teasing him. She’s sure Jon would appreciate her jokes just as much as she’d love to hear him nag about holding them up one more time.

 

“There’s an exit coming up.” Jon’s voice is barely above a murmur but at least she can feel his eyes on her again. This time he holds it for a moment before looking back to the road, “Do you want me to pull over?”

 

“Yes.” Sansa’s voice sounds sharp to her own ears, so she adds on an overly sweetened ‘please.’ But Jon doesn’t seem to notice or care either way as he pulls off the road. It’s some dumpy gas station with cheap prices and dingy luminescent lights. The place reeks of cigarette smoke and Sansa has to skip out on the sketchy looking fruit in favor of the snack aisle. Her fingers trace along the assorted candy and breakfast bars and she’s almost made her mind up when she feels Jon sneak up next to her.

 

“What are you getting?” Jon snags up a Chewy granola bar and looks over at her. He’s already got on his running headband and to be frank, he looks like a douchebag. Sansa smiles in spite of herself and grabs a peanut butter Cliff bar. “Those things are practically cookies.” Jon points to her breakfast of choice and Sansa rolls her eyes, “You got a fucking Chewy bar Jon, save me the health lecture.”

 

Jon huffs out a laugh and peels back his wrapper to take a small bite as they walk up to the cashier. “I’ve got it.” Jon wiggles his fingers to take the Cliff bar but Sansa only shakes her head in response, “No, it’s alright. You drove us.”

 

When the cashier finally comes around, Sansa pays for both bars before he can even get a word in. Jon seems defeated when they walk back to the car, and Sansa can’t help but internally celebrate her small victory. “Thanks for the bar.” Jon grumbles before climbing into the driver seat. Sansa hides her laughter and gives him a thumbs up as she assumes her co-pilot position. They pull back onto the highway in a comfortable silence as Sansa finishes off her bar. 

 

"Hey, I am really sorry that I made you wait this morning." Sansa's voice is sincere in apology as opposed to when she just rolled her eyes to Jon’s sarcastic jabs when she first got into his car. 

 

Jon looks to her and shrugs,"S'alright." 

 

"Apparently it hasn't been." Sansa eyes him and watches him sigh deeply. 

 

"What is it, Sansa?" 

 

Everything. His tone, his car, his playlist, and the way he rolled his eyes when she first got in the car. Even the way he looks at her, it drives her absolutely crazy, like he thinks he knows everything about her. 

 

Sansa starts before she can stop herself. "Can I ask you a random, serious, and personal question?" 

 

"Oh, Christ." Jon laughs with no humor, "Sure."

 

"Do you think if Ygritte had had the baby you’d still be with her?" Sansa anxiously picks at her cuticle to keep from seeing the facial expression Jon is surely shooting her way.

 

Jon takes a horrible sharp breath that makes Sansa debate whether or not to shoot him a bailout option. As the words form on her tongue, Jon clears his throat and shrugs. “There’s no telling.”

 

“What do you think though?” Sansa can’t help herself. She is fully aware that she’s currently sticking her hand into a hornet’s nest just to shake it about and watch it swarm, all the while hoping that she doesn’t get stung.

 

“I have no fucking idea.” Jon scratches at his beard as he sighs exhaustedly, “Probably.”

 

Sansa feels her heart lodge itself into her throat and thinks about all the late night conversations with Harry. Tangled with one another beneath the sheets with dreams of starting a family _ , “just as soon as this merger is over,” “we’ll start as soon as I’m done picking out the material for the upcoming project _ .” Maybe if she’d had a piece of Harry left behind to her, the ache wouldn’t have been as painful. Or maybe it’d be worse. Either way, there’s no telling, and Sansa wonders how different she’d be as a mother and what Jon would do as a father. Sansa steels herself to glance his way, but there was no need. Jon doesn’t seem angry. If anything, he looks thoughtful.

 

“Do you wish you were still with her?” Sansa carefully watches him.

 

“Not anymore.” Jon swallows, “Maybe in another life things wouldn’t be so fucked. But it is and she’s married to someone else and I’ve stopped wishing it was me.”

 

“Married?” Sansa had no idea what really happened when Jon moved up to Castle Black. Both her parents and Robb had been very vague on the rare occasion he’d come up in conversation. Probably because they didn’t think it mattered much to keep her posted, or they were protecting him. Now Sansa figured it was probably the latter.

 

“Yeah. She met him at Winterfell U. He was in the History department and English and History do a lot together…” Jon trails off of his rambling before refocusing, “Um, anyways he’s from Castle Black. That’s why she moved back up there with him.” Jon gives a strange smile, “She’s actually probably had his baby by now.”

 

Sansa practically flinches at the revelation and snaps her open mouth shut. “Jesus.”

 

Jon sucks in a breath, “Yeah.”

 

“Does it hurt still?” Sansa looks out at the mountains once again because she doesn’t want to see him drop his calm façade at her picking. So far the hornet’s nest isn’t so bad, but she’s frightened to take another peek after shaking it once more.

 

“Not as much, no, but it still sucks.” Suddenly, Jon grabs his water bottle from the cup holder between them. Sansa doesn’t flinch when his fingers brush her hand and Jon takes a long and lingering sip. “Why?”

 

“I never asked.” Sansa shrugs. “You came back home and I never asked Ygritte questions.”

 

“I asked Loras questions.” Jon’s voice takes a lighter tone, just for Sansa to shoot him a dark look. “I won’t ask again if you don’t want to.”

 

“I don’t want you to. I’ve already told you anyways.”

 

“I take that back.” Jon sets the water bottle back with gusto, “You’re weird about it. You tell me one thing and do another and I only ask because I don’t want you getting hurt.”

 

Sansa crosses her arms, “You ask because you’re nosy.”

 

“And you’re not?” Jon retorts and Sansa scowls in response.

 

“I’m coming from a nice and well-intended place! I was just curious.” She can’t help the shrillness that leaks into her voice.

 

“Yeah, alright.” Jon is tart and Sansa wants to shove him, but she just holds herself tighter.

 

“You went up north to follow a girl who broke up with you but I get more crap for dating a guy just for fun than you ever did.” Sansa glares at him.

 

“He’s told you he loves you. One day you tell me he can’t get it up and he’s boring, the next he’s so nice and so sweet and  _ fun _ .” Sansa’s mouth falls open at his words once more. “Oh, come on.” Jon rolls his eyes, “You’re playing with him because you’re scared.”

 

“Scared! What’s there to be scared of!” Sansa drops her arms and shakes her head.

 

“Love. Of being with someone you could lose. You said it yourself.” Out of the corner of her eye she sees Jon’s jaw flex and she has to force herself to keep her vision straight ahead.

 

“Oh, fuck off.” Sansa snorts, “You can’t compare us.”

 

“What is that supposed to mean?” Jon’s eyes go dark and his foot grows heavy on the gas pedal. 

 

Sansa feels the car accelerating as quickly as her heart rate. “You know exactly what I mean!”

 

“No, actually, I don’t.” The car has got to be going at least 80 mph but all Sansa can hear is the roar of her blood rushing.

 

“You fucking used me! You treated your girlfriend like  _ shit _ and she finally left you. So you turned to drinking and berating me for being sad about my dead husband!” Sansa’s chest is heaving and the car is screeching and bumpy. She glances out the window to double check that they haven’t flipped over and inhabited some sort of dimension of purgatory. But to her surprise he’s only pulled the car over and the mountains seem so far but the heat of his anger is so close.

 

“I never meant—“ Jon yanks the keys from the ignition, “I wanted to be there. You hurt like I hurt and you were,  _ are _ , so… so beautiful.”

 

Sansa watches him in bewilderment as he struggles to string his words together. How long had he been thinking like this? Since when did Jon Snow find her  _ beautiful _ ?

 

“I fucked up. I  _ was _ fucked up and that’s no excuse. I know that. I just, I wanted to be there and I didn’t know how. We ate together that night and I felt like I had this purpose. You were this… fucking light in all the darkness and bullshit of what I did to Ygritte.” Jon desperately rubs at his eyes with the palms of his hands. “Ygritte should’ve left me long before she did. I know that. I didn’t deserve her just like I didn’t deserve you. I wasn’t meant for you. It wasn’t your job to fix me. Just like it wasn’t mine to fix you.” Jon isn’t looking at her but she’s dying for him to. She’d give anything to grab his face and it not be weird, but it will be, so she doesn’t. Sansa stares at him and licks her lips.

 

“You did help.” Sansa nods along with her words, “You were an ass to me,  _ God _ , you were the worst; but you did help. I had something to look forward to and someone who didn’t treat me like fine china. You were the only one to look at me like I wasn’t some injured animal.”

 

“But you were an asshole,” Jon closes his eyes at her words. “You used me as some kind of distraction or redemption story and I know that. You said you loved me and I know you didn’t. I know you didn’t mean it.”

 

Jon finally looks at her then and every part of her is dying to scream, to run, to get the fuck out of this car but these words are meant to be said. They’re meant for him to hear and for her to be free of. Everything had been leading up to all of this, and she’d denied it, but she also knew it all along. How many times had she been running behind him and dying to grab his arm and tell him what he meant to her? How many times had she wanted to smack him after a race and tell him what a dick he’d been to her?

 

“I loved you as best as I could at that time,” His eyes are glassy, “It was different. But I did love you.”

 

Sansa shakes her head, “You think you did.”

 

“Sansa, I loved you.” Jon tilts his head, “You read my favorite books and shared your own and you laughed and you came to my work. I looked for you in every crowd and I spent all my time not with you counting down to when I’d see you next. I came up with bullshit reasons to come over to your parents just in hopes of getting a glimpse of you.”

 

Sansa wills herself to hear his words but they’re difficult to grasp. It’s so hard to remember that first year after Harry’s death. The only bits she can easily envision are meeting up for coffee and the Chinese food that started it all. Everything else is this fuzzy darkness, which is probably for her own good. How can one person sit and reflect on that sort of year and not fall apart? It’s dulled and numb and in the past.

 

“It wasn’t right and it wasn’t good, but I loved you.” Jon bites his lower lip, “I’m sorry for that.”

 

“For loving me?” Sansa’s words fly out before she can really think.

 

“For telling you that I did.” Jon finally looks at her, “You were hurting and I looked past that in hopes that I could be enough for you.” Jon’s grey eyes flit over to the road, “I don’t know. I just had this fucked up feeling that you could fill all these empty spaces in me and that I could do that for you too.”

 

“I would’ve.” Sansa clenches her teeth in thought. Because maybe, if Robb hadn’t walked out of his wedding while Jon’s tongue was in her mouth, the moment would’ve ended differently. But that was impossible to say and even harder to imagine because how could they have loved each other? How well would they have been able to treat one another while Jon was a drunk and Sansa still couldn’t be guaranteed to get out of bed every morning?

 

“No,” Jon scoffs, “We couldn’t have done that for each other. You wouldn’t have at least. You’ve been a better person than me this entire time.”

 

“You give me too much credit.” Sansa swallows and looks over at him.

 

Jon clicks his tongue in his mouth and drops his eyes to the console between them, “You’re a great person Sansa Hardyng.” Now his eyes are looking straight into hers and she feels her mouth go dry, “I mean it.”

 

“You are too.” Sansa reaches out and places a gentle hand on his shoulder, “You weren’t but you are now. You made mistakes Jon, you aren’t a perfect guy, but you’re a good man. Seriously.”

 

Jon looks at her and she feels like the floor has fallen out from beneath her. It feels exactly like it had that stormy night of the wedding reception and just as it had when they’d been on that handicap ramp. He’s sleepy and sullen, like always, but Jon Snow is handsome. Sansa guesses he always has been, but she’s really noticing the way the right side of his mouth is always the first to pull up into a smile and how soft his writer’s hand is against her cheek.

 

Flashing blue lights melt the moment right before it’s even begun. Sansa jumps back as Jon looks over his shoulder and mumbles, “Shit.”

 

“Are your tags okay?” Sansa begins to chew on her lip. Cops always make her nervous, even when she knows she’s done nothing wrong. Jon smiles at her concerned face and shakes his head. “I’m fine, but could you grab the registration from the glove box?”

 

As soon as he’s finished asking the question the cop is already at his window. He’s a portly man with a friendly smile, “Hey, are you guys alright?”

 

“Yes, thanks. The car was making a weird noise so I just pulled over for a moment to check it out.” Jon looks the officer straight in the face as he lies. Sansa’s hands shake as she ruffles through the napkins and papers collected inside the glove compartment.  _ Who keeps oil change receipts _ ? Sansa is decidedly bothered by how cluttered it is and her frustrations mixed with the presence of a police officer are enough to make her feel like screaming.

 

“I’ve got it.” Jon’s voice is low and kind as he places a warm hand on leg. His grip is comforting and he flips through the papers to quickly grab his registration. Sansa misses the heat of his hand as soon as it leaves, but she’s happy that it means the cop will be leaving at any moment.

 

“You two have a safe trip. I hope your car is alright.” The cop hands Jon’s ID and registration back after a couple moments of glancing it over.

 

Sansa practically faints into her seat as he finally turns away and Jon shoots her a look. “Jesus San, could you have made it look any more like I was kidnapping you and holding you against your will?”

 

“I just hate cops okay! He didn’t have to…act all in charge!” Sansa rests her head against the leather headrest and closes her eyes.

 

Jon chuckles under his breath, “Geesh woman, you’re a mess.”

 

“You’ve got no idea.” Sansa whispers but it’s drowned out by the start of his engine.

 

“Let’s get going, we’re running late.” Jon mumbles as he pulls back onto the highway.

 

“Please don’t speed anymore.” Sansa shoots him a pleading glance. She can hardly stand the irony of dying in a car wreck with Jon Snow. What would Harry think of that?

 

“I won’t. Sorry about that.” Jon’s lips are a hard line after his apology.

 

“Let’s not say sorry anymore for the rest of this trip. Let’s just run and see who can make it to the top the fastest.” Sansa looks back at mountains and can’t help but smile.

 

“Whatever you say, Sansa.” She knows what she’s just said makes him want to laugh at her, but she’s thankful that he doesn’t. Sansa begins to doze off and counts her blessings as she does so, grateful that her hand is out of the hornet’s nest without any stings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yaaaaaaassss I love how these two keep confronting each other in Jon's car


End file.
